#and she could never remember how to do the mirrors based on what combination of stands is there (because tjeres like a few variations)

[skyburger]

"fnaf is the scariest game ever" "no its silent hill" "well i think its resident evil" everyone shut up!!!!!! youre all wrong. its actually zack & wiki quest for barbaros' treasure (on the nintendo wii) but only the level "keeper of the ice". that level scared me so bad as a kid and you can tell because its the only individual level i remember the name of off the top of my head. like there is nothing scarier than a) being chased and b) being on a time limit. and you know what this level has? BOTH OF THOSE. this level is still scary to me im like AHHHHH!!!! and then i die

[bellagrimfox]

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Headcanons/Ideas for Epic Mickey

Headcanons

Oswald often gloats about how he got an appearance in Disneyland/world. Until he remembers some of the kids mistaking him for Mickey.

He hates being called old despite being made years before Mickey. (thanks @jakeneutron and your awesome interpretation of Oswald)

Oswald was responsible for naming all of their rabbit kids, but he'd always forget who's who since there's 420 of them. (I feel like this one is obvious but I thought it'd be nice to say it)

Oswald gets paranoid about his foot being stolen or cut off, to a point where he puts an extra blanket around his lucky left foot.

Oswald never rubs his right foot since it's cursed with bad luck, though his misfortune isn't often the foot's fault and if it is, it's usually someone mistaking it for his lucky foot or by complete accident.

Oswald has a huge stigma against wolves and foxes. As for dogs, he hates rabbit hunting breeds but is overall ok with them. Fortunately for Mickey, Pluto is one of the few dogs he likes.

Oswald originally was terrified of having kids (Reference to Poor Papa short), though he very quickly got over that fear once he saw his first child.

Oswald has a small interest in lost media, mostly preserving and finding cartoons long forgotten.

Fanny was Oswald's first wife and the one he had children with. She left him around the time the Bunny Children were born. Oswald remembers the reason, though he won't share that with anyone other than Ortensia.

Ideas

Let's start with mechanic ideas before we get into rewrite territories.

His remote weapon could function differently but in a way that perfectly mirrors Mickey's paintbrush. To do this, let's look back at what Mickey can do.

The paint allows Mickey to create and reform enemies, thinner is pretty much the opposite. Using this fact and the original remote mechanic in the sequel, let's see if we can combine them together.

Electricity

His original attacks are still the same with being able to stun enemies and effect technology. However, in the rewrite, this moveset is basically the Paint counterpart.

Now this is where the new stuff happens. His Thinner attacks are based off plasma.

Consider this image as a reference for how his remote would look like when in Thinner/Plasma mode.

Anyways, Plasma mode can kill Blotlings and similar enemies and damage technology. For example, when you use Plasma on fireworks, instead of just igniting them, they explode into a ball of fire that can destroy walls and anything else nearby.

Corruption

Consider this a part 2 of the Plasma mode idea. Reprogramming works differently when using Plasma. Whenever you fire a beam of Plasma on an unarmored Beetleworx, you will end up corrupting them which will turn them into violent drones. As for switches, they will malfunction and break, making them unstable throughout the entire playthrough.

Bonus Mechanic

When Oswald is on very low health, you can use his lucky rabbit foot to get a random beneficial effect such as healing or extra damage. Just note that you can only use one rabbit foot per level and it doesn't work on bosses.

SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT!! IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED OR SEEN THE GAME, PLEASE DON'T READ THIS PART!!!

Epic Mickey Story Rewrites

Note: I haven't played the original game yet so this is going to be based off what I've seen and read from the wikies.

In my rewrite, events in the game change in content and story based on if you've used the Paint or Thinner as the main weapon. That's just the summary but the worldbuilding post will go deep into it so please remember this for future posts.

First, the neutral path, Oswald follows the same personality and attitude towards Mickey like in the game. Though I'd add some moments of character development with extra cutscenes. These scenes would be slightly altered depending on the Paint and Thinner path but would be pretty much the same regardless of which path you take.

For example, I came up with a scene where Oswald wakes up in the middle of the night and he goes to where Mickey is sleeping. In this moment, Oswald is able to snatch the paintbrush and is about to use it on Mickey to steal his heart, only for him to not go through with it since Mickey has done so much to help him save Wasteland and stop the Storm Blot. (This is the canon name of the main villain blot. This video best clears up the confusion)

Now for the Thinner path Oswald, he's a lot more aggressive towards you and while he sees it's effective in wiping out the blotlings, he also sees that it's affecting the civilians of Wasteland and calls Mickey out on it often.

Paint path Oswald becomes more friendly and positive to Mickey, regaining the hope that he and Mick can really become brothers and forgetting about stealing his heart.

Now for the big spoilers, the last moments of the game.

I'm very happy to write this part finally.

In the beginning of the second part of the final boss, Gus says this-

In the rewrite, there is an actual time limit for the final boss where you actually have to recover the heart before Oswald gets absorbed. However, this time limit is long on purpose, giving you enough time to defeat the Storm Blot. Of course, both the neutral and thinner path endings don't change much from the original game.

Though, if you did go pass the time limit, you would get a secret pin and a secret non canon end where it's a mirror of the regular ending but Oswald isn't there.

But on the Hero path, a different scene plays out.....

After Mickey frees his heart, it lands into the hands of Oswald who, after some consideration, hands it over to Mickey. Only.....this time, before it could leave, Oswald keeps holding it. When Mickey tries to get closer, a transformation occurs.

Oswald's body becomes an unstable mass of ink and thinner, his mouth replaced with a mess of teeth, his hands replaced with sharp claws.

As for Mickey's heart, it became fused to his chest, covered in an armor of pure thinner, making it sickly green with pulsing veins. In hero mode, the Storm Blot has brought one more trick. The last resort. The final challenge.

The Forgotten (Oz-Blot)

[shaunsummers]

Two Dykes Went Up to Georgia

"Hmph. You think I get tired of spending time with you?" Lilith knew what she meant but the repetition flew by with little acknowledgement. Sure, it was the same old hole in the wall time and time again; but it was nice on every occasion. Shaun, undoubtedly, had everything to do with that. With her, any casual outing or a night in provided charm and entertainment. Even something as simple as patio smoke breaks could turn into its own thing. "You're easy. I love that." She smiles, giving a little reassurance with the cup of Shaun's cheek.

The creeping warmth between them, however, failed to pass unnoticed; but Lilith kept her lips sealed of its existence. She wouldn't ruin the sweet moment. Not to mention an urge she couldn't fulfill. In time, sure enough, her want would return to baseline; but as for now, she couldn't even humor the thought. With all that had surrounded her life, the temptation of sex was little more than a memory.

"But you seem set on sweeping me off my feet. So, let's go." A gleam brings color to her eyes as she leaves her touch with a parting kiss into Shaun's hair, begrudgingly forgoing any effort to change her attire; she couldn't bring herself to let Shaun suffer what would surely be a long winded display of choice paralysis.

"You know, I could even collab with Lilith. If we combined all our dog shit exes, it'd be like a red flag data base. Scratch that, we'd need Siren, too; because, oh my fucking God, I could never. Imagine if we put all those red flags into an AI. It'd generate a super mega sentient fuck boy. Crazy but, you know what, you're right. Lucky me, I didn't end up in a trailer somewhere in the back end of Appalachia, with my hair in curlers, smoking Virginia Slims, and not knowing if that was one of my kids that screamed or a wendigo. Wouldn't that be a nightmare? I'd definitely be on coke in that scenario." In a brief moment of reflection, Robin casts a glance into the mirror with a sigh. It would be so nice, though, to have a special someone that wasn't a complete ass hat. Why was that so hard? She couldn't find the answer within, only a sudden craving for mimosas.

---------

What must've been a passive statement for Lilith, in contrast, gripped Shaun's chest with its warmth. It was difficult to take her eyes off of her, and maybe the comment on being 'easy' could've been taken poorly in another time, with another person, but it was the way Lilith looked at her that deflected her from sinking into any doubt. No one had ever really looked at her like that. At least, not that Shaun could remember. It was unnerving how pleasant it would be to do nothing at all but stay here, hold her, and be contented with it. On that front, she understood the meaning of Lilith's words.

"I do recall warning you about that." Helpless to her lure, Shaun saunters in behind her with a giddy smile as she scoops Lilith into her arms to take her off her feet, quite literally. "You look gorgeous, by the way." With a light laugh, Shaun gives into the temptation to steal one more kiss from her, beaming like a fool in the eagerness to escort her out and onward towards the plans she'd made. "Do you have everything you need? I packed a cooler in case we get food." And to keep the bottle of champagne she'd buried in the ice cool, but that was a later surprise.

"Coke? Probably meth." Quinn chortles at the vision of Robin as some trailer park octo-mom. It was hard to picture as any sort of reality, though. "Can't see it. You're too fuckin' weird to end up makin' Superbowl nachos for some douche-nozzle and 2.5 kids. He'd 'disappear on a hunting trip' way too fuckin' fast."

Twisting the cap back on the ointment, Quinn straightens with finality. "Finished up here, though...Wait, you think wendigos are real?"

[nikkireedsource]

The Pantry (Yes, Pantry) Products Nikki Reed Uses for Luminous Skin

Our guest columnist finds her way back to a simpler, nature-inspired routine.

Welcome to Take Five, my recurring beauty and nutrition column on ELLE.com culled from a lifelong passion for animals, the outdoors, and feeling good. For me, the notion of taking five—whether the number pertains to ingredients in a food or just a moment to ask your body how it's feeling—can make all the difference. Consider this your 300-second-long wellness retreat.

I grew up in a household in which "no" wasn't said too often. Typically, this can create an issue in the realm of authority, but in my case the environment allowed me to experiment, dream, and nurture any creative endeavor I wished to explore.

When I was seven years old, I remember asking Mom if I could go to the front yard and pick a rose to make rose perfume. "Sure, go for it," she said, undoubtedly knowing that floral-scented perfume would never come from the concoction I was brewing in the kitchen.

She was right. The wilted petals simmering in water muddied with plant juice in the microwave was never going to smell anything like a department store fragrance. This was around the same time I was nursing an undying love for lollipop rings. I recall asking Mom why the blueberry-flavored pops were much "bluer than a blueberry." I can't remember her response to that one. And while I now understand that so much more goes into many of the products that stimulate our senses—many of which purposefully evoke our sense of connection with things that exist only in nature—I still think that that little girl boiling roses was onto something.

Why is it that we can consciously ignore the difference between the taste of strawberry-flavored candy and a true strawberry, and yet we call them by the same name? Why do we walk into a grocery store knowing full well that apples aren't meant to come in vibrant reds or greens with shiny, almost mirrored exteriors, and yet we have taught ourselves that those ones are "better"? Why do we douse ourselves in perfumes labeled with the word "ocean," but turn our noses up at the salty smell of the sea?

Have we become so reliant on the potency, the intensity, and the familiarity of such products that we no longer find the subtleties of nature as appealing? Why do we need the condensed scents, the explosion of flavor, or the shockingly colorful?

In all honesty, I'm guilty of it too. I gravitate toward the bright green kale and the yummy, unrealistic fragrances because I believe we are all programmed the same, guided by our senses. But while I appreciate products that are designed to stimulate them in a way that augments every experience, I also listen to the tiny voice whispering to get back to the basics, to grab that bottle of olive oil off the counter and use it as a moisturizer for the week, and to create my own natural deodorant by combining lavender, vanilla, and coconut oil.

I believe in the balance found in using both store-bought items as well as what is available to us in our home pantry. And while there are justifications for both, there is a lot of joy that comes from creating our own products and knowing what is in them.

Below, my favorite all-natural products that you can buy anywhere, use anytime, and tweak to complement your existing routine. Please note, of course, that while these combinations work for my skin, I cannot guarantee my exact formulas will be beneficial for everyone. I am a big proponent of trial and error, but always consult with your dermatologist if you have sensitive or problematic skin.

"I like to use olive oil as the base for everything skin/body/hair related. I like to add an inch or two to a squirt bottle filled with water and a few drops of an essential oil, like lavender, to spray over my entire body after every shower. I also combine olive oil, coconut oil, and rose hip oil to create my favorite moisturizer. While you might associate 'oil' with 'oily skin,' fear not. You will be surprised at how quickly your skin absorbs all of it!"

"Growing up with a mom who does hair for a living, I was given a lot of recipes for DIY hair treatments that may seem a bit strange, but they're definitely worth trying. One requires avocado, olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and honey. You can combine all of these, or use them separately, whatever works best for you. If you eat eggs in your home, those make a great addition as well. Leave it in for as long as you can stand it, then rinse, wash, and voilà!"

"I also highly recommend getting a diffuser for your home, as essential oils are highly beneficial when inhaled. For example, I use lavender and rosemary oil in my aromatherapy diffuser at night to help with coughing or headaches after long flights. I also add a few drops of rosemary oil to my shampoo and conditioner to keep my hair follicles healthy. Coffee grounds, cinnamon, cane sugar, and coconut oil also make an amazing body scrub. I learned about the benefits of this scrub while living in Russia almost 10 years ago, after spending a lot of time in the local bathhouses."

Original article

[emptystove]

The Long Con - Ch 8

One Piece Fanfic (Romance/Drama/Suspense)

Pairing: Nami x Law

Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY

CW: Graphic Violence, Sexual Situations

Chapter Summary: He could stop now and walk away. He should. He should let go of her waist, forget how perfectly she fit in his arms. He should ignore the little noises she let slip as his breath fanned over her neck. He should bat away her hand as it slipped under his hat, running her fingers through his hair. All he had to do was walk away.

Posted to AO3, FanFiction, and Wattpad under HortyCord.

Chapter 8 - Senses

Nami opened her eyes and blinked until the metal ceiling above her came into view. She heard rustling at her side, and a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Law's lazy grin. She closed her eyes again and smiled, knowing she was safe.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hmm, stiff." She slowly moved to a sitting position and took in her surroundings. She was in a medical bed inside Law's submarine. "How long have I been out?"

"Just shy of ten hours."

She stretched her muscles and grimaced.

"Where does it hurt?"

"My back," she replied. "It's not that bad though."

He moved behind her and lifted her shirt to inspect the area. He prodded gently on the skin adjacent to her dark bruises, and she flinched.

"It's from his hands." She answered before he could ask.

Law lowered her shirt and moved back in front of her. "I should have gotten there sooner."

She shook her head. "He did that before I called. It doesn't matter anyway. It's over now."

She stood from the bed and walked slowly to a mirror over a sink hanging on the wall. Her hair was a tangled mess and there was some less angry bruising around her neck, but other than that she seemed ok.

She caught Law's eyes watching her in the mirror. He stayed quiet, but she felt like he was holding back. She spun around when she remembered something. "Law, what did he inject me with?" She asked urgently.

"A powerful sedative," he replied calmly. He paused and said his next statement more cautiously. "He didn't have a chance to start the procedure before we got you out."

She swallowed hard and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. "Procedure?" Thoughts of everything that happened that night flashed through her head as she tried to put the pieces together.

He sat down next to her. "Based on what was in their files, it looked like he was going to try to give you some combination of physical and mechanical enhancements."

She again appreciated how he never sugar coated any details, even when it might be difficult to hear. She looked down at her hands and a shiver went through her at the thought of what something like that would do to her.

"That doesn't make sense. You said only the Vinsmoke siblings are enhanced."

"True."

"I mean I know he liked me, but how could he be ok with letting someone outside of the family have their abilities?"

Law paused and studied her a moment. "I have a theory. Maybe you can confirm it," he started slowly. He grabbed Ichiji's file from the table and handed it to her. "We were correct in thinking he was affected differently than his brothers."

Nami opened the file. The first page still had the photos he showed her inside the lab. The next page was photos of specific body parts. There were also internal diagrams of mechanical parts fused within his body.

"He can suppress his emotions better than his brothers when he's calm, but when he doesn't suppress them, they manifest physically in an extreme way. When this happens he becomes completely single minded, focused exclusively on a singular goal. A useful trait for battle, this is likely why he was able to overpower both of his brothers while we escaped."

She continued to flip through the pages of his file, not understanding most of it. She looked up and waited for him to continue. All of this seemed obvious based on her time with him.

Law took a deep breath before continuing. "Your experience with him was not the first time he has failed to suppress the intensity of his emotions. According to his file, there have been around a dozen casualties as a result. I'm guessing he thought he wouldn't be able to accidentally murder you if you were as strong as his siblings."

Nami's eyes widened. "He lost it a few times. I was able to calm him down the first. Well, I guess technically I crushed his windpipe."

"You're lucky he allowed you to do that."

Nami thought carefully about his words. "He knew things he shouldn't have." She furrowed her brows. "He could tell when I lied. Well, kind of. I figured out a way to deceive him, but only barely." Nami wasn't ready to explain to Law what she did to make that happen, so she continued before he could ask. "He said he knew you were already there when I called you."

"He has observation enhancements." Law watched her closely as he spoke. "He must have noticed me following you."

It almost made sense, but something still didn't seem right. "He noticed you following us from a distance, but he didn't notice you swinging a giant sword at him before you cut his fingers off?"

Law smirked at the memory before replying. "It's more limited than his other enhancements. It doesn't work in an autonomic way. He has to make a conscious effort to use it." His smile faded, his face turning hard before he spoke again. His voice was barely a whisper. "You have no idea how critical it was that we got you out in time."

Nami's head was reeling, remembering the traumatic night with what felt like more traumatic context.

"The second time he lost control," she stated slowly, reasoning through her thoughts aloud, "it was after I mentioned leaving." She threw the file away and shivered. "He was never going to let me go."

He looked like he had more to say, but he was holding back again. Nami felt sick. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know more if there was anything else.

Law grabbed her hands gently and pulled her to face him. "It's all over now. They sent ships to pursue us but we lost them easily. There's been nothing on the radar for hours."

She couldn't believe how incredibly close she was to that terrible fate. She thought about what might have happened to her, where she would be right now if Law hadn't saved her. She thought about what would definitely happen to Nojiko if Arlong found out she didn't return. It was almost too much to bear. "Look, I know you're going to ask me tell you every detail of that night, and I will. But before we do that can you just..."

He looked at her expectantly.

She moved against him and wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. "...Just hold me."

He was already pulling her close by the time she voiced her request. She closed her eyes and held him tight. It was probably her imagination, but she swore she felt him place a soft kiss on her temple. Even after everything she had just been through, in that moment, she knew she had never felt safer.

*****

Their arrival at Zou was a literal breath of fresh air. The home island of the mink tribe was full of lush plant life. The main city was nestled in the center of a tall forest. The simple design of its buildings and streets only helped to compliment the island's natural beauty.

Being in a place that looked completely different than Germa was a relief to Law, and he could tell Nami felt the same. Even more different though was Zou's people. The mink tribe welcomed them with open arms. It wasn't often that outsiders returned one of their own, more often coming to kidnap and enslave them. And it helped that Bepo was there with them, even more so when Oso recounted his version of the events.

Law had been stealing more and more glances of Nami since they arrived. It was her fault. She was softening again. Each time he looked at her, she was closer to showing her real smile. The one she had when she first met Law's crew in their apartment on Germa. When she saw Oso embrace his family, he felt her hand slide into his. She kept her eyes on the minks but she held him tight, all but unable to contain her happiness for them.

Law didn't know exactly what compelled Nami to stay working with Arlong, but he knew enough to know it wasn't for herself. She was protecting someone, the only person left in her village. She really was kind, and he wondered how long it had been since she was able to show it. The joy she felt in that moment was infectious, and he found it hard not thinking about her long after she left his side. It was probably the reason why he found himself doing what he did next.

"Hey, stranger. Fancy meeting you here."

Law kept his back to her, hiding the smile he couldn't suppress at hearing her greeting. He was well off the beaten paths of the island. There was no way she just bumped into him. She had sought him out.

"Which one of them told you?" He asked casually.

Her only answer was a giggle.

"It was Bepo wasn't it? His ears always give him away." He closed the cloth bag in his hand as he responded to his own question, turning to greet her with a lazy grin.

He immediately regretted turning around. She was closer than he realized, looking up at him, smiling with feigned innocence. She had apparently joined in the tradition of trading clothes with the minks, wearing Wanda's dress from earlier in the day. He hadn't noticed much about it when Wanda had it on. In fact, he wondered if it was even the same garment. The thin purple fabric went all the way to the ground but left little to the imagination. The generous neckline and laces up the sides made it painfully obvious she wasn't wearing anything underneath. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at her face.

"Penguin, actually," she mused.

Law frowned, finding that answer harder to believe.

"He walked in on Wanda and me changing," she laughed. "I fined him a hefty sum of belli but agreed to waive the interest once he told me where you disappeared to."

"Extorting my crew after all they've done for you." He dared to step closer to her, looking down with a sly grin. "And just when I was about to give you your gift."

"Gift?" She asked, not even trying to hide her eagerness.

Law smiled wide. "Yeah, too late now though. I'm not sure you deserve it after how you swindled poor Penguin."

"Hey, the deal I made with him was more than generous after all he saw!" She closed the small distance remaining between them and put her hands on his chest. "Please," she purred.

He had no intention of denying her his gift, but he loved making her think that he might. He rolled his eyes half-heartedly before pulling away and walking in the other direction. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a nod, signaling to follow.

After walking a few minutes, Law reached behind him to grab her wrist as he sensed her going for one of the pockets in the bag slung over his shoulder. He tried to hide his grin with a stern look. "Don't be greedy," he teased. He moved the bag to his other shoulder and slid his grip from her wrist into her hand before pulling her along on their walk. He stopped trying to hide his grin when he saw how much that little touch made her blush.

They eventually came to a small clearing, and Law stopped at the edge of the tree line. He leaned back against a surprisingly large trunk, pulling Nami to stand in front of him. A soft breeze tugged at the tall grass of the clearing. The shady spot gave them a perfect view of the large whale carved statues across the bay.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Her breath hitched as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I hope you appreciate this. They were harder to track down than you'd think."

Law slipped the bag from his shoulder and held it in front of Nami. He wasn't sure why she had become so welcoming of his touch. Ever since they left Germa, she would all too often find a reason to be close to him, and he would all to often find himself looking forward to it. Even spending most of his time on their trip pouring over the Vinsmoke files, they were never far from each other. She rested her feet in his lap under the table. He ran his fingers through her hair as they lounged against Bepo. Despite how good she felt nuzzled against him, he held himself back. He had too much to do before they returned to Dressrosa, even with Shachi and Penguin's help. Everything they brought back had to appear perfect if his plan was going to work. He couldn't afford to get distracted. At least that's what he told himself before doing the exact opposite of what he intended.

Nami almost jumped as her hand wrapped around one of the items in Law's bag. She pulled it out and leaned further against him, turning her head to beam up at him. That look alone was enough. It was worth his absurd trek to a distant village to trade an absurd amount of belli to the only ones on the island with any of this treasure.

"Mikans," she whispered sweetly.

He shifted slightly, trying to hide the shudder he felt under her soft gaze. He turned his head to brush his nose over her ear as he hummed in agreement.

She shivered, leaning into him more as he left ghosting kisses down her neck. "I guess this means you're in trouble," she purred as she slowly pressed her hips backwards into him.

He paused to smirk against her neck at her reference to their previous code word.

"Definitely." He dropped the bag in his hands. He was definitely in trouble.

He could stop now and walk away. He should. He should let go of her waist, forget how perfectly she fit in his arms. He should ignore the little noises she let slip as his breath fanned over her neck. He should bat away her hand as it slipped under his hat, running her fingers through his hair. All he had to do was walk away.

She moved her hand to his cheek and turned her head to face him. His heart was pounding as she looked up at him with soft hazel eyes. "Law," she whispered, her lips only a fraction away from his own.

He should definitely leave, but there was nothing in this world that could make him pull away from her now. He was putty in her hands, happily ready to bend to her will.

"Not here," she whispered, giving a subtle nod toward where the Polar Tang was docked in the bay.

*****

The second the door to the captain's quarters closed behind them, she was back in his arms.

The warmth of his skin was magnetic, and she relished in even the smallest touch. It wasn't just that he was the textbook definition of tall, dark, and handsome or that his baritone whispers in her ear made her knees weak. There was more to his touch that made her unconsciously seek it out.

Being alone with him was dangerously comfortable. It was a new feeling, like nothing she had experienced before. She spent most of her life trusting no one, knowing she could only rely on herself. Friendships were a liability and a distraction she was careful to distance herself from. The few people she had taken into her bed in the past, she only did so with her taser in the nightstand and a knife under the mattress.

It was different with Law. He protected her. Even after driving him crazy with her impulsive decisions, even after breaking down crying in front of him in the middle of the night, he still protected her. Her rational mind told her that he was only protecting his own interests, but her pounding heart drove those thoughts away when she felt his golden eyes on her.

He planted soft, slow kisses across her jaw until finally capturing her lips. She ran her fingers down his chest, lightly pushing back his open shirt. His hands traced from her wrists to her shoulders before slipping under the beaded straps of her dress. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss while moving her arms to her sides, allowing the thin fabric around her to easily fall away onto the floor below. Her naked body shivered, and she leant into him.

His hands continued to roam over her, deliberate movements, tracing every inch within reach. Not every inch though, Nami realized as the hand on her back refrained from grasping anywhere she still had bruises. Her heart felt like it was on fire. She was fully naked in his arms, so completely vulnerable, and he was still protecting her.

Giving in to this feeling, this overwhelming sense of safety, should have been frightening to her. But it wasn't. It was intoxicating. She removed his shirt and pushed herself closer against him as they moved together toward his bed.

Desperate not to lose his touch, she pulled him on top of her as she fell backwards onto the soft sheets. She wound her fingers through his hair before pulling him down into a hard kiss. He held himself up on one arm as the other wandered down her curves, pulling a loud moan from her as he teased over her sensitive bud.

"Law, please," she pleaded breathlessly. "I need to feel you."

He instantly pulled away, just long enough to kick off his remaining clothing and grab a condom from the nightstand. The next thing she knew, he pushed himself all the way inside her. She cried out as he stretched her to her core. He paused to stare down at her. He felt amazing, his touch, his gaze, penetrating her completely.

"You're so fucking incredible," he growled in her ear as he began thrusting into her. She arched her back, gripping hard onto his shoulders under his relentless passion. She could hear him whispering something, but she could hardly make it out over her own loud mewling. Her senses were overwhelmed. The sound of his voice, the scent of his skin, and the weight of the man on top of her dominated her every thought. Her vision went dark as her whole body clenched around him. He unsteadily thrust inside her a few more times, riding out his own release before she finally fell limp in his arms.

They were the only two people in the world. There was no fear anymore. No anxieties. Not as long as she felt his touch.

*****

Nami's eyes fluttered slightly, adjusting her vision to the darkness in the room. The steady breathing beside her let her know Law was still fast asleep. With a cat-like grace, she snuck out of the bed and slipped on her dress from the floor. Although she would gladly spend the next several days in that man's bed, she desperately wanted a shower.

She grabbed a white fluffy towel from the spare room she had been staying in after he allowed her to leave the infirmary. As much as she rolled her eyes at Law's constant planning, she was impressed at the efficiency of his escape plan.

Shachi and Penguin had gotten every single thing they had from the apartment in Germa before their quick getaway. She didn't even mind at how haphazardly everything was packed. She was just overjoyed to know she still had all her things and there wasn't a trace or trail left for anyone to follow.

Once clean and refreshed, she put on some clean clothes. She knew whatever she had with Law would have to end once they returned to Dressrosa. It was easy to ignore that fact when she was wrapped in his arms, but it plagued her mind the longer she was away from him. It would probably be easier if she started distancing herself now. She should focus on her next steps, what to tell Arlong about what they found, and how best she could position herself to dig up more info on the king for him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her stomach growling. She smiled mischievously to herself. She would definitely distance herself from him, but not before retrieving the delicious mikans he had given to her.

It was still too early for anyone to be awake, so she crept silently through the halls back towards the captain's quarters. She paused before turning the corner when she heard the door to his cabin close. She peaked into the hall when she heard the sound of retreating footsteps, catching a glimpse of Shachi heading the other direction with the Vinsmoke file binder. He wasn't practiced at being stealthy, but she could tell he was trying. Maybe that meant she could grab her gift as well before he was awake.

She pressed her luck and was pleased when she saw him in the same position she had left him in as she slipped back inside. Her eyes scanned the dark room as best as they could, finally eyeing her prize on the desk across from the bed. When she was close enough to grab the bag, she noticed something else that made her pause. Set against the wall was the Vinsmoke file binder. The same one she just saw Shachi leaving this exact room with.

She looked at the form on the bed. No movement, steady breathing. It was early. Maybe she had mistaken what he carried for something else. Her curiosity was peaked, though. The only thing she really knew about the contents of the file binder was what Law explained to her after she woke up in the infirmary. As much as she never wanted to think about anyone from that family again, she knew it could help her in Dressrosa to have a better idea of what exactly they had stolen.

She lowered herself onto the desk chair before pulling the files toward her. She wasn't sure where to start. Ichiji's file had been towards the front, but she would rather not start there. She pulled out the file at the back. Vinsmoke Yonji.

The dim light from the door to the hallway was just enough to view the contents of the file. He had the same photos of himself paperclipped to the first page as Ichiji had in his file. Despite being the youngest of the three brothers, he was slightly taller with a somewhat more muscular build. She flipped to the next page. These pictures also seemed similar to those she had seen in Ichiji's file. There were differences in the mechanical aspects of his anatomy for sure, and for many of them, she struggled to imagine how they would practically work. The other thing that stood out to her was the large tattoo on his upper arm. It was a tribal design with the number four in the center. Why is that familiar?

She pulled out Ichiji and Niji's files from the binder, flipping to the same pages in each. They all had the same tattoo with different numbers in the center. Ichiji's had a one, Niji's had a two, and Yonji's had a four. She pulled out Reiju's folder. Even though Nami knew their sister was older, she thought maybe she would have the missing number three tattoo. Before she could look further, she heard the bedside lamp flip on from behind her.

"You shouldn't read in dark, Nami-ya. It's bad for your eyes."

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and golden eyes smiled back at her.

"I didn't want to wake you." She shrugged. "But seeing as you're awake now, I can do what I actually came back in here for."

He raised an eyebrow before watching her grab a mikan from the desk.

She returned her attention back to the files as she ate. Law stretched as he came up beside her. "Find anything interesting?" He asked before kneeling down and stealing a slice of the fruit for himself.

"I was just wondering why there's no three. Yonji's tattoo has a four, the others have one and two, and Reiju just has two large sixes on her thighs."

"Hmm, yeah, there was a fourth brother born before Yonji-ya." Law said casually before stealing another piece. "It doesn't say much in his file except that the treatments that his brothers received didn't work the same on him. He's marked as presumed dead, though there isn't anything explaining why."

Nami found this new information unsettling, but with the way Law's fingers combed through her hair made it hard to concentrate on.

"It just makes me that much more grateful that I got to you when I did."

She hummed in agreement and leaned closer to him. She could feel his breath over her pulse.

"We can't keep finding ourselves like this when we're back on Dressrosa," she whispered as her hand grazed across his bare chest.

"I know," he agreed, bringing his other hand to her cheek.

She turned to face him, forgetting any other protest she had in mind when she met his eyes.

"I know you know better than to trust me, but I promise you this. I will do everything I can to protect you."

Her chest was on fire, and all logic and reason were cast aside. It wasn't long before she was wrapped around him again, begging him to make her scream his name. Her plan to distance herself from him over the next few days was long gone. She would greedily accept everything he was willing to give her for as long as she could. Despite his own warnings, she did trust him to protect her. She had never felt so sure of anything. She had no doubts that when she was with him, she was safe.

*****

Germa

Ichiji exited the car into the dim alleyway. The sun had just begun to rise, barely illuminating the pitifully dull building in front of him. It was hardly an accommodation worthy of someone like Nami. If he had realized just how repulsive of a place this was, he would have insisted that she stay with him sooner.

He knew someone watched him from the darkness. It was to be expected. No prince of Germa had ever sullied himself enough to set foot in this part of the island, but today, there were three.

He approached the building slowly, pausing to stand in the open door of the first floor apartment. It was regrettable that Niji and Yonji were still questioning the drunk who called himself the building's landlord. That meant they hadn't found anything yet.

"What news," he demanded, though he already knew the answer.

Yonji turned around to address his brother, wiping the blood from his hands with a kitchen towel. As he moved aside, Ichiji saw the man's bloated and bloodied form. He was lying face up on what appeared to be a dining table. Each of his limbs was tied to a different table leg, leaving his head hanging backward over the edge. Part of his flannel shirt was torn off and shoved into his mouth. The damage to his body was less than Ichiji had expected. They must have just gotten started.

"The doc rented the place upstairs under a fake name. Paid in cash. Slipped him some extra belli to look the other way for whatever else he did up there." Yonji tossed the towel aside before spitting in the man's face.

"That's all we've gotten out of him so far," Niji chimed in as he waved the electric paddles in his hands dangerous close to the man's temples, laughing lowly as the building's owner trembled beneath him. "Then again, he still has all his limbs."

Ichiji turned to make his way upstairs. It was unlikely his brothers would learn anything else worthwhile. The lights flickered briefly as he reached the second story, the man's muffled screams from below echoing in the chilly morning air.

The dingy apartment was bare apart from a few basic pieces of furniture. Ichiji wasted no time in his search. He worked methodically, searching every nook and cranny. They left no items behind. Even the trash was emptied and taken away. What he did find wasn't useful in the least. There were pencil shavings under the breakfast table and mink fur in the couch cushions.

By the time he reached the bedroom, his frustration was starting to peak. He looked at his hand. Only the faintest trace of a scar was left where his fingers had been reattached. Law. He could torture that human filth for an eternity and still not be satisfied. He had stolen everything from him that night. His family's private research files, his mother's photograph, and his woman. Nami was his.

He won her heart that night. There was no denying that. He knew every time she lied. He even found it entertaining when it was directed toward one of his brothers. She could lie to everyone else with ease, but she could not lie to him. She told him she wanted to stay with him, and there was no lie. She ran away from Law when he came to take her back. She ran deeper into the lab, farther from the exits. She wanted to stay. Even as she succumbed to the effects of the sedative, she fought to stay with him. She was different from the others. She wasn't going to leave him. She didn't leave him. Even though she feared him, she knew she belonged to him. It didn't matter how far from him she was taken or how deeply she was hidden. She was his.

Another scream from downstairs pulled him back to the present. His heart was pounding through his chest. He closed his eyes as he sat on the bed, carefully working to catch his breath. He stilled all movement as he caught a familiar scent. It was her scent. Citrus with hints of lavender and honey. The only trace of her, forgotten with the sheets on the bed. He picked up her pillow and buried his face in it, breathing in deeply. He ripped the pillowcase off and started to pocket it when he heard something fall to the floor.

It was some sort of paper. He slowly unfolded it, careful to not cause any ripping or smudges. His mouth twitched. It was a map. There were no labels, no discernible landmarks, not even an indication of cardinal directions. It wasn't anywhere he recognized, but that didn't matter. It was hers, and nothing would stop him from finding her.

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[crystalelemental]

Alright, let's do another one.  I wanted to test out some new stuff, and pairs I don't use enough to have justified their investment.

Vs. Bertha Caitlin sweep.  Okay, serious talk for a second: Lodge Dawn just beat an off-type CS stage.  That is the first time she's done it.  Granted, it had to be Bertha.  Aaron has Feint Attack which is perfect accuracy, and Lucian has accuracy boosting/Wise Entry/-2 Special Attack on entry.  Flint...actually maybe we could've done Flint.  I didn't actually try.  Anyway.  Caitlin and Lucian we know what the deal is.  What we do not know about the deal is Lodge Dawn is actually better in half time to sync conditions.  "That sounds incredibly stupid."  And yet, here we are.

See, Dawn's entire problem is repeated hits, and raw firepower.  Against an opponent with lower (in this case, split) DPS, Lodge Dawn does solidly alright.  Getting through sync is all but impossible under normal conditions, due to Power Up On Hit, which she cannot manage.  But when the sync comes early?  When it's non-threatening as a result?  Now she has survived, and has +3 evasion under her belt.  And suddenly, we can start dodging attacks.  This is an actual, honest to god solution to Lodge Dawn.  Apparently, half time to sync mattered.  I still can't believe it myself.

Vs. Flint I opted next for Karen, who I've never used off-type barring some Gauntlet runs.  She's never been too impressive, but I wanted to see what she could do in CS.  SC Jasmine was chosen because I remembered Flint being mostly special.  Between special attack debuffing and special defense boosts, we took sync just fine.  More importantly, double flinch lockdown shenanigans.  Karen's able to put in some really impressive work with the right lockdown tools.

Vs. Aaron Alright, time to get Lodge Adaman a win.  Off-type, Adaman can beat things, provided he's got the right level of power behind him.  In this case, May and Archie.  Combined Water theme skills, Archie and May hit like trucks, and May takes first sync to really deal with center.  May is reliant on MPR on her trainer move, but I actually did okay without it, so it's at least possible.  Yes, she missed sync crit both times, but Muddy Water was like 7.5k damage afterward so she was fine.  We did have to take sync.  I feel like that needs to be discussed.  Archie does not even come close to surviving, while Adaman's so worn down it doesn't matter anymore.  May, as a sturdy tank, handles it fine, and has to finish with second sync and not missing Muddy Water.  By god, does she accomplish it.

Vs. Lucian I shared a screenshot of this one.  I don't think I ever tested Gloria off-type with the whole sync buff thing.  Anabel is great because shields block a ton of sync damage.  It didn't even deal half.  Marnie just sets up Steel Zone, and Gloria starts throwing hands.  It's actually kind of insane to see how hard Gloria hits once the foe's sync goes off.

Vs. Cynthia If you hadn't noticed, H!Caitlin/Colress has officially become A Thing.  AoE Screech and Mirror Shot is so funny.  Caitlin herself is an absolute monster of a tank, and apparently the second condition Cynthia sets is "permanent field effects," so that was nice.  The difference this time is, instead of Rosa, I wanted to bring Elesa.  I don't think I've done much with base Elesa, despite EXing her, so I wanted to see how she did.  Well, as it turns out.  She is so much more efficient than she seems.  +1 crit per action, including trainer moves, is stupid useful, and her sync does respectable numbers.  H!Caitlin is a godsend for this fight in particular, thanks to the evasion shenanigans.  In fact, H!Caitlin seems very tailor-made to beat this fight.  Like, in particular.  Good striker support with defense boosts and Synchro Healing, physically inclined, accuracy boosts.  She's got it all.

[theoryfan205]

@emberpone you said you wanted to see and I can't find my other posts on this so I'm gonna compile more info here as well

Officially in our speedy spiders universes Reddit is instead rebbit, like ribbit, it's frog based. All thanks to this go to my friend @anonprotagging who said it while responding to stuff on their name which we'll get into now!

They canonically do not have a name, they never got around to it and never officially said anything concrete, when anyone asks they get too anxious about it and just say something and dip, mostly "hey, spider! For the (insert newspaper) what's your name!" "...uh.. secret identity can't tell you bye!" So people have just given them names, should our Spidey make their own name? Yes but they're horribly indecisive about it because it's been so long and it's gotta be perfect, so they just scroll rebbit in any r/Spidey things to see what names people have given them, there's probably a whole sub rebbit (a tadpole) about names for them and they scroll it every night just to see the new stuff.

They have a gwen! Or someone in that role, daughter of the police chief, though they don't know that, I'm pretty sure I had her go by a single letter acronym, but I can't remember which letter and I can't find the post anymore, even though I had people reply to it, so I gotta go off memory! She's essentially their man in the chair, they communicate via drone that she pilots and they first met by her accidentally finding them with their mask off so they just went "okay you have to be my friend now, that's the rules, you see my face you gotta help please please-" and she said yes, she gives them such good Intel on the cops and where they'll be and crime scenes because her dad is the chief of police, instead of helping him she uses that position to easily get access to that information, she also helps our Speedy spider with mechanical inventions, if they have the item web grippers she absolutely helped them make it and if it's biological she helps them get the hang of it, our Spidey has no idea who she is other then her acronym and they don't really care, been online enough to be entirely used to usernames and just goes with it, they don't care she knows more about them, mostly because they don't think about it and also because they don't mind, shes a friend and has helped them so far from cops and other baddies, so she's good in their book, if she wanted to arrest them or something she would have done it by now after all.

Both flash and spiderman have an anti villain, not antihero but a guy who is a parallel, flash has the anti flash, same speed powers but different perspectives, and Spidey has venom, who is a direct opposite to Spidey and a corrupting force, big, buff, things spiderman usually isn't, I wanna combines these for our anti bad guy, someone with similar powers who is an opposite and corrupting force, my plan was to use the second spider in this so it like bites someone else, so we get the flash version of similiar powers that spiderman usually doesn't get, but I'm still unsure of the corrupting force part, the opposite one can just come from them both having different minds, they think differently so much you could say their reactions are opposite to the others, like a mirror image if that's how mirrors work, if I have any ideas on that later I'll come back and reblog this again with them

Words aren't my specialty so prepare for word soup spider-sona post, you have been warned

I have no idea how to start this so let's get the basics I have down! This spider-sona is British because you know I am, sticking to what I know, and so the big city they usually protect is London, have I only been there like twice? Yes! Am I doing this anyway? Also yes! Anyway- this spiderman becomes spider man in more of a freak accident, they're visiting London for a week to check out this new science exhibit put on for a limited time only for people to showcase their research, like art fairs for science! Something like that, working on the details but they're interested and manage to get in to see all the cool things and hear how they work, one of these showcases is showcasing a new experiment on spiders... The scientist working on it plans to induce super speed into a silk web spinning spider, the plan is basically if the spider goes really fast it'll make webs really fast and thus you've got a quick supply of spider silk! You'll basically never run out!

Now they've already done it once successfully on a spider they're showcasing as well and they plan to demonstrate the process live today with another spider, as they're already convinced it'll go well with the experience of having done it successfully before, our spiderman here gets an interest in practically everything, even the spider, leaning in to look at the little fella while listening to the explanation of the experiment. When the time comes for the spider fast experiment it ends up going horribly wrong because the equipment explodes, just.. boom! People knocked everywhere and the spiders get out, our soon to be spiderman is knocked down too and while trying to escape the rubble after the explosion they come across a tiny little spider, they crouch down and look at the little fellow, recognizing it as one of the spider experiments but not remembering what one it was, as it crawls on their finger and they think out loud they get interrupted by a fast bite to their palm, slapping the spider away and accidentally killing it.

They are not going to admit they just killed the spider, and entirely decide to blame it on the explosion as they leave the scene of the spider murder and soon after get rescued, it's a whole disaster and it's quite a mess. Something something spider powers! The explosion from the tech plus the experiments made relatively harmless (uk spiders aren't quite poisonous) radioactive fast spiders, and thus after getting bit they get the usual Spidey powers, sticky hands and feet, Spidey sense, super strength and a new one thanks to the experiments specific to that spider, super speed, that's right I'm fixing the heights problem by giving them super speed! Don't need to swing really high up and risk sobbing as spiderman if you can just run real fast and use the webs to help propel yourself forward!

The inspiration for speedy spider over here is spiders that just fucking bolt when you try to kill them and I had a dream where I was spiderman in a spiderverse and my power was speed so clearly my subconscious agrees with me! For the costume it's green because that's my favorite colour, also yellow because green and yellow go great together! I got nothing else for the design just ideas on them

I don't have a name either, in costume or out of costume, there is a green spider in the UK but it's got a lame ass name I ain't using that, my only ideas are like green widow or something leaning more into the speed side like I dunno the speedy spidster? (Pronounce it like Spidey) it's a work in progress! I am working on it, but basically my spider-sona is the flash spiderman, having to run all the way to London when their vacation Is over to save the day is just a part of their job! I'd imagine something might pop up to get them in London more full time but thats the basics! Also no spoilers for anyone reading but they would so socially awkward in the spiderverse, someone says hi and they blue screen, they aren't prepared for this many spideys

[suna-reversed]

Somebody else

sukuna x reader/ yuuji x reader

wherein, your best friend takes over your lover’s body

decided to combine these two👀

(❤️=size difference)

Warnings/Tags- dub con, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, choking, nipple play, mirror sex, degredation, slapping (once), spit kink, size kink, oral (m.receiving), bulging, slight exhibitionism?, yandere themes heavily implied! (all characters are aged up‼️)

The arrangement, per say, was quite peculiar. But you somehow still managed to work it out, much thanks to Yuuji’s patience and his willingness to allow such a thing. 

You couldn’t remember when it started, perhaps it was your constant bickering with the mouth on Yuuji’s cheek or how it always seemed to show up whenever you were around, or perhaps it the time he saved your life during one particularly tedious mission, surprising everyone else.

Whatever it was, it had ended up making the king of curses grow a soft spot for you. Well, at least what would be considered soft for a curse. It was never acknowledged except for the one time you went to sleep in between tattooed arms and woke up to the face of your best friend staring intently at you, 

“It’s okay, as long as you’re happy.” He’d said. You didn’t pay much heed to why he hadn’t removed his body from yours. 

Time with Sukuna was scarce, most of it being when Yuuji would be too tired after a mission and involuntarily shift, leaving you alone in the hours of dusk with your lover, as he drove his lips all over your body, moaning filthy things in your ear as he rut into you- you could only hope your best friend was unconscious all throughout it. 

----

You were on your knees in between Sukuna’s legs, taking as much of his huge girth down your throat as you could, your hands taking care of what your tongue couldn’t. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you don’t fail to miss the smug look on his face as you desperately whine around his cock. You know he’s just playing, god forbid he ever cums anywhere except for deep inside your cunt. 

“Begging for my cock already- how pathetic.” 

His voice is gravelly calm, sending a shiver straight down your spine. You whine once again as he slightly bucks his hips up, your mouth struggling to encompass his massive member. One of his hands comes to grip your hair, your moan coming out muffled against a mouth full of cock. 

“So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it-” He’s cut off with a groan, “Ah- shut up brat-” 

You somehow get the feeling that he wasn’t talking to you, but you don’t have much the time to ponder over it as the hand on your head starts pushing down urging you to start moving once again. 

“Fuck fuck- stop it! No-”

His voice is laced with genuine annoyance and you hurriedly pull yourself off of him, brows scrunched in confusion as you look up at him, wondering what you were doing wrong. 

The face that stares back at you however is chillingly unfamiliar, a cheshire grin spread across it which makes the marked face of your lover seem like it is of a madman. You’re thoroughly confused by Sukuna’s behaviour- you know he’s complex at times but you’re truly at a loss of comprehension this time. 

“Did I say that you could stop?” 

You instinctively shake your head, no words leaving your mouth as you remain stunned with his strange behaviour. 

His hand comes to caress your cheek, thumb moving to brush against your bottom lip,

“C’mere” he mumbles, and your body seems to move on it’s own, as you move your face close to his. The thumb on your bottom lip prods at your skin until you open your mouth and Sukuna brings his head to rest against yours- you’re too enchanted by the feral look in his eyes, gasping at the feeling of his saliva landing against the tip of your tongue. He presses your jaw shut with one hand as you struggle against it,

“Be a good girl and swallow it.” 

His commanding tone instantly has you doing so. You’ve never seen such a side to him, however, you can’t say that you mind it. His grip on your jaw loosens and you let him switch your positions- not like you could’ve fought against his raw strength. His muscular chest is pressed to yours as he pins you down beneath him, one large hand exploring the valley in between your legs, dangerously trailing close to right where you want it to be but never quite reaching there. 

“You like watching this huh?” 

Again, there’s a strange feeling in your gut, but it’s overpowered as two fingers land against your sensitive nub, lightly pinching it which makes you push your hips against his fingers, asking for more. 

A yelp escapes past your lips as he suddenly moves away, getting off the bed to stand at the edge. His cock stands tall against his stomach, tip still dripping with a mix of pre-cum and your spit from before. 

“Come here, slut.” 

You’re a little shocked at his words- used to getting spoiled with praise by this time of your rendezvous. Was he angry about something tonight? 

“No- I forbid you from leaving my arms.” He had said as you cuddled earlier in the night, making you laugh and slap his chest- which was exactly what led to where you were now. He seemed fine before- perhaps he just felt rougher tonight?

“Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.” 

He growls out loud, snapping you out of your daze. You’re instantly crawling towards him, looking up at him with a mixture of both need and confusion as you wonder what he’s up to. A hand comes down to wrap around your throat, his breath right next to your ear as he leans forward, 

“Next time-” the grip on your throat tightens, “...you listen when I tell you something.” You weakly nod your head, sighing as he pulls away. 

Smack!

The burn on your cheek stings, making tears well up in the corner of your eyes- you look up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of orbs in between crinkled eyes, a smirk resting atop his lips- you almost feel guilty for the arousal that pools in between your legs. 

“Now now, let’s show you what a proper fuck is.” 

You’re being picked up, strong hands coming to knead the flesh of your ass as he walks you two over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Before you know it, he’s sitting you down on the chair in front of your vanity table, turning you around so that you’re met with the reflection of your legs spread over his thighs, his cock rubbing against your soaking pussy. 

You throw your head back against his chest as one of his hands moves forward to play with your clit, the other twisting and pinching your nipples. You’re grinding against his wet cock as he increases the pace of his fingers, moaning profanities as his teeth dig into your neck. You feel your orgasm building up, the tight coil in your stomach getting close to bursting and right as you’re there-

“No!” You cry out loud. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror and you’re slightly thrown off by the bewildered expression on Sukuna’s face- almost guilt filled and panicked- his hands completely positioned away from your body. 

“No please- don’t stop- need you filling me up so bad please.” You beg out loud, tears falling down your eyes, the ripples of your ripped away orgasm still pulsing through your body. 

And just like that, it’s gone, and the hunger-filled eyes are back. 

“Oh, she said she wants it- who am I to deny such a precious little thing?” 

You don’t have the time to register his words as strong arms lift you up, positioning his huge cock against your slick heat. You moan at the contact, still sensitive but needy as you clench your eyes in pleasure. 

“Do you know you look real pretty when you cry?” 

Your mind is too fuzzy from the feeling of his tip stretching your insides to respond. A hand comes to your jaw- angling it forward,

“Come on, look at how my cock stretches your tight little hole- how you gush around it like a desperate whore.” You find your eyes opening out of their own accord and almost moan at the sight you’re met with.

His enormous length is almost halfway inside you, the base of his shaft glistening with your dripping juices as your tiny hole struggles to fit all of him in. One of his arms is protectively wrapped around your waist, pushing down against the bulge starting to form on your stomach while the other kneads your tits, pressing them together, pulling your nipples every now and then. His scarlet orbs hold a wild look from where they glance up at you, his face bowed down, teeth biting into your neck. He makes sure you see him smirk against your skin as he pushes himself up deeper into you making you cry out loud. He starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, moving your body like a rag doll as the air is filled with both of your loud groans and grunts.

Yuuji would argue that he’s dreamed about this for weeks- almost months- perhaps from the first time he laid eyes upon you. All those times he had to watch your body underneath his- only to barely be able to feel you, your saccharine moans hitting his ears and him not being the reason for it- it pissed him off beyond reason. He thrusted his hips harder into you, the hand on your tits moving down to rub circles onto your clit. 

“Ah fuck- I’m close.”

That’s right- you were moaning for him now. More than you ever had for the stupid curse. Did he ever fill you up this well? Always handling you like you were as fragile as glass- when this is how a real whore like you wants to get fucked. He feels pride swell in his chest as he hears you crying about how big he is, how well he’s filling you up, how it’s too much- but you’re still crying for him to fill you up aren’t you? All while the king of curses sits back and watches helplessly. 

He feels your walls clamp down on him, your frail little body compared to his thrashing from the overstimulation of pleasure as he continues to fuck you through your climax. He finds his own pleasure not too later, spilling inside you with a loud moan, grinning at the sight of you all fucked out in the mirror- his seed dripping out of your hole as he pulls you up, turning you around so that you’re facing him. Your head falls against his chest, arms coming around his neck- the audacity you have- no, you don’t get to do this shit with him after all the years he took care of you- all the years he spent loving you- only for you to go ahead and open your legs the second a pathetic man with tattoos and a silver tongue showed up. 

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” 

You’re still too exhausted from your previous feat, almost clawing at his body heat being pulled away from you as you’re manhandled onto your knees on the floor. Your pleas are shut down with a single stern look from him- apparently puppy eyes weren’t gonna work on him tonight like they usually do. 

“I’m gonna make sure every single part of your body is covered with my cum by the time I’m done with you. Now suck.” 

Who were you to deny him? Especially when he kept his word, fucking into you all over the bedroom, spilling his load onto your tits, ass, face- everywhere. You were so tired by the end of the night, you didn’t notice how he didn’t run a bath for you or stroke your hair while pressing kisses to marks he’d littered your neck with like always. Instead, the last thing you saw was his back as he walked out the room- did it not have tattoos? You didn’t remember it the next day as you clocked out. 

The next few days are strange- with no sighting of your lover. You assume it’s because Yuuji’s busy with training or missions. That is until you meet him in the cafeteria. 

“y/n! Good morning!” He greets you cheerfully, and you feel a little guilty for wishing he wasn’t in such high spirits- hoping he’d have been tired enough for you to get some time with Sukuna.

“Hey, where have you been?” You ask while leaning into his side hug. Just for the matter of a second, you think you notice a feral look flashing through his eyes- gosh, how much had you missed Sukuna to have to be imagining such a thing. Yuuji is still speaking, his usual happy grin on his face,

“...no worries though, I’ll make sure you get your time with your grumpy big cat.” Your heart warms at your best friend’s considerate offer, knowing his time is limited and he still chooses to give it to you.

“Thank you so much Yuuji! Have I ever told you how grateful I am to have you as a friend?”

“It’s no problem y/n!” He says, ruffling your hair, “As long as you’re happy…”

You do not understand why Sukuna refuses to enter your room that day- insisting you shift somewhere else- or why he refuses to even touch any part of your body where he himself had left marks upon- or why there’s an air of jealousy and possessiveness to him as he bends you over the couch, hands tied behind your back while he ruts into you like an animal in heat, promises of fucking you better than ever before being grunted into your ear.

Taglist- @bakugohoex @mahitochan @saturnmoon @lilshortcakess @itsyaboiana @p-each-y-day @osmosly @jotazinha @captainmads2092 @laura-marie-16 @tsuki-kusa

Thanks to my masochist baby @bakugohoex for helping with the idea🙄🙄 no I’m not killing the reader❤️

[astranva]

Reason To Hate You.

// masterlist //

Word Count: 5k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language, as usual. Just angsty. It’s good for the skin and some soul cleansing.

Summary: He loves her, but has no time to show it even when she asks him to. But she’s had enough, and Harry writes a song.

Based on Reason To Hate You by Rhys Lewis.

..

You were sure when Harry sang “comfortable silence is overrated” he wasn’t joking, because maybe your boyfriend appreciated the uncomfortable silence more, or at least he had been showing so.

Familiarity was out of the window when it came to the both of you, because that would be an understatement. Your friends and families had joked about it for the one year and 7 months of your relationship, about how you were one soul in two bodies, how alike you and Harry were and how the differences completed one another.

You knew when he was stressed, sad, nervous, even when he was a combination of every emotion there is and it had always assured you that he, too, knew you like the back of his hand.

One look at you and he’d offer the best support; let it be a shoulder to cry on, a celebratory dance, or a shared cup of blueberry yogurt.

But quietness had barged in like an univited guest, one you weren’t ready for and the more you thought about it, you would have never been ready for it.

Empty was one word to describe it; the bed, the kitchen, the living room, the balcony, the house, the trips to the grocery’s – the relationship.

It began around the time of Fine Line’s release. Biting back your tongue, you had managed to not feel small whenever you listened to all the tracks on there that Harry had on his ex, especially the one that had his ex talking at the end of.

But Harry had showered you with love and assurance, telling you that he couldn’t believe he had ever lived without you by his side and how he had never felt this sort of love with anyone.

You, too, had showered him with affection and the undivided pride you felt for him, making sure all your friends and family purchased the album, playing it at all times, working online so you could accompany him to some of his press because he needed you there with him.

“Mom’s birthday is coming up. I think we should get her that dress she talked about last time, remember it?” You had asked one night as you lied in bed, eyes on your boyfriend as he moisturized his face while standing in nothing but his boxers.

Harry glanced at you before looking back at the mirror one final time before walking to the bed, “I don’t, no.”

“The Marc Jacobs o-“

“When is it?” He rushed, getting under the cover, turning away from you before turning his head back to look at you.

Your lips parted before closing again, before you replied. “Friday.”

“This Friday?” And at your nod, Harry pursed his lips, “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t make it. Have a meeting all day to talk about tour.”

“But H, you knew about this for two weeks.”

“I did?” Sheepishly, Harry asked.

You slumped before shaking your head, “It’s alright. I’ll just tell her you had an emergency or something.”

“You do that.” He nodded, reaching behind him to give your thigh a squeeze, “Get whatever gift you want, pay with my card.”

You didn’t reply, watching as he let his head down on his pillow, back to you as he got comfortable, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on your bedside table.

On the day of your mother’s birthday, you remember the halfhearted smile you offered to her when she asked you where Harry was,

“Says he’s really sorry. Family emergency, but this is from the both of us.” And then you had given her the neatly wrapped present, a card attached to it with a birthday message from you and Harry, only that it was only you who had written it because Harry was up and out of the house the minute you opened your eyes that morning.

And then it happened, again, and again, and again,

and some more.

“Good morning,” you had smiled at him one morning, watching as he rubbed his face before he approached you, capturing your lips in a kiss that had the butterflies in your stomach cheer and dance, “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, love. What about you?” He smiled tiredly, hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder from behind as he watched you flip the cheddar cheese and omelet toast on the pan.

“Great.” You smiled when you felt him rub your skin from over your nightgown with his fingers. You turned off the stove before turning, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning to peck his lips, “Hey, I know we always get Chinese takeout for our Sunday night date but how do you feel about Thai?”

And instantly, Harry tensed, guilt already taking place on his face and the smile on your face faltered at the change of demeanor, “Y/N, I’m sorry, lovie, I can’t make it tonight.”

“What? Why? We never skip on our Sunday night indoor date.”

It was a ritual you and Harry were devoted to since the very beginning of your relationship, and not once had neither of you flaked on it, always having plans around it but never during it because it was when the both of you would kick your heels up, pig out, watch a movie, talk, and just get ready for the start of another week.

“Told you I’m going to Miami for a few days to meet with the director for Watermelon Sugar, baby.”

“You’re travelling?” You frowned, “You never told me.”

Harry paused, eyes going slightly big before he looked away for a moment before looking back at you, “I’m sorry. It must have slipped out of my mind with how hectic everything has been.”

You didn’t reply, suddenly feeling a tad uncomfortable with your position which had you remove your arms from around him and turn, holding the pan and moving out of his grasp to put the toast on his plate.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It’s just my job and I can’t reschedule.”

You sighed, feeling as if your heart strings were being tugged at. Nevertheless, you managed to give him a small smile. “It’s alright, H. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

To be honest, if anyone had a say in this, they’d say Harry took advantage of how accepting you were, but you would never. You would never say – nor admit – that he was taking advantage of all your “I understand”s and “I get it”s, because you knew he was busy. You knew he loved you. You knew it, until you weren’t so sure anymore.

Standing in the corner of Adam and Emi’s living room, you sipped on your Sprite as you watched people from Harry’s band and those behind the album mingle, your boyfriend standing out of earshot but in front of you, conversing with Tom – Kid Harpoon – and Naomi, his hands moving around as he talked which made you smile a little.

“Why are you standing here all lonely?” You felt a nudge to your shoulder before you looked beside you, seeing Sarah leaning on the wall beside you.

You shrugged, “Just watching.”

“You never texted me yesterday after your date. How did Harry react to your dress? Did you end up wearing the white sh-“

“We didn’t go.”

“-oes? Or- Wait, what?” Sarah frowned.

“We didn’t go on the date.” You repeated, avoiding her eyes by looking down at the small soda bubbles in your cup.

“Oh,” Sarah’s shoulders slumped, taking notice of your gloomy mood, “Oh, um,” she cautiously looked at you, “You were dressed.” She mumbled with a frown, genuinely sad for her friend.

You chuckled, putting your weight on one leg, “So was he, but we had different intentions, I guess. He had a meeting with Jeff.”

“Y/N…” Sarah, with a frown, offered a hand of support on your shoulder.

With a small, very fake smile, you looked at her and shook your head, “It’s alright, really. He’s been busy with tour and the press and all that.”

“Doesn’t make him less of an arse, you know?” She raised an eyebrow.

You only chuckled, looking down at your shoes, “Don’t worry about it. Hey, at least I got to watch that show you’ve been bugging me with.”

You were patient; something many of the people you knew in your life always praised, some even were in disbelief at how patient you were with the shit life threw at you. Like that one time your laptop lagged in the midst of your presentation at uni and instead of freaking out, you remained calm, collected and patient, and it was why you ended up acing that presentation.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like crap, because you did.

Since communication was key, you had decided to do just that – communicate. Harry was better than you when it came to confrontation. For a long time, you had trouble with approaching anyone and telling them that things weren’t fine, but as yours and Harry’s relationship blossomed, you learned to.

It was why you had decided against going to bed early one night and opted to stay and wait for Harry’s return, knowing that it was the only time you would be able to see him with how tight his schedule had been.

In a crewneck of his and plaid pj pants, you sat on the couch with a cup of green tea in your hands, watching a talk show that you mentally criticized as shit in your mind before you heard the click of the door.

Taking a breath to steady your heartbeat and breath, you put aside your tea before you clutched your hands together, cracking your knuckles nervously as you heard the sound of Harry’s home sliders against the floor.

His face showed confusion at the light being turned on, knowing that by that time, you usually slept, but he saw you sitting there, too in your head as you looked at your fidgeting hands to notice that he was a few steps away.

“You’re still up.” He stated in surprise, watching your head snap to look at him.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, “Was waiting for you.”

Unknowing why, Harry smiled to himself as he approached you, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Can we talk?”

And then his smile slightly faltered, eyebrows furrowing in slight worry before he sat. “Are you alright?” His hand reached up to brush your hair.

You hated how loving he was that moment, how he made you feel. How he showed you care when he was there for a few minutes, but you hated how he had trouble showing you that by making time for you.

“Harry,” you began and he immediately felt like shit because you rarely use his name, “Are you ever not going to be busy?”

“What?”

You felt stupid, not knowing how to articulate how you’re feeling but gave it another go anyway. “It’s just that, you’re never here anymore. It’s always the album, meetings, press, and when it’s none of those, then you’re out with your friends-“

“Is this about me cancelling that date?”

And you knew he was starting to get defensive and you made note that you hated that, too.

“Which one?” You asked tiredly before sighing, turning fully to look at him, “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your job, your life, but I’m just asking you to make time for me. I just feel out of place, Harry, and it sucks.”

“You know this album is important to me, everything about it.”

“And I absolutely love all that for you, I’m so proud of you,” you held his hands, “I just miss you, that’s all.”

“But Y/N, that’s-“ Harry let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, “That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to cancel on our quality time more than twice to be with your friends, all of whom you see everyday.”

“I see you everyday.”

“Seeing me when I’m sleeping or kissing me goodbye is hardly anything, Harry.” You said gently.

He contemplated it, staying silent for a few moments as he looked down at your joined hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just, make time for me, for us – please?”

You had kissed then, almost like a promise, and for the first time in a long time, you cuddled.

You wished you received enough assurance that he was trying, wished to see it, but it seemed like too big of a wish to come true.

You had a career of your own, one you were proud of and worked hard for, so when one day your boss asked you to their office to break the news of your promotion, your smile might as well have resembled a painted one like the Joker’s, from ear to ear.

Your colleagues had cheered for you, even interns approaching you to tell you that you deserved it, and they had all decided that a celebration was due. While they were planning for the celebration, deciding that it would take place at a nearby pub the following day as it Saturday and Friday was a good day to recover from hangovers, you took out your phone, composing a text to Harry.

‘H, please be home early tonight. Big news! 🥳 Love you!’

“You sure you don’t want to join for a quick drink? You earned it.” Your colleague Mariah asked as she walked you to your car.

“I’m sure. You go have fun and we’ll meet tomorrow.”

“Hey, tell your boyfriend to tag along!” She said as she waved before leaving.

That day, you went back home, showered and changed before cooking a nice meal for yourself and Harry.

You had checked your phone multiple times, checking if you might have missed a response or missed a call but granted, your phone only notified you of few congratulatory messages from people in your workplace and your family’s Whatsapp group after you had shared with them the news, none from the one person you longed for.

When the clock struck 8 that night, you found yourself grabbing your phone, tapping on it until you were calling his phone. One missed call, you called again and that time, he answered.

“Baby, I’m in the middle of something.” Harry rushed.

“What is it?” You found yourself asking.

“Mate! You fucking cheated!” You heard him laugh, sounds of different people in the background, “Don’t wait up, yeah? I have to go now. Love y-Wait, I’m coming!” And with one final laughter from him – a sound you had always loved and cherished but that moment, it only made you feel like crying – he hung up.

You stared at your phone, eyes stinging and nears getting itchy, swallowing the lump in your throat before you angrily tossed the phone onto the couch before walking to the kitchen to eat your share of the food. No way in hell were you going to sleep sad, angry, and on an empty stomach.

You hated how small you felt, how you felt unwanted in his world. It wasn’t like you wanted much either, just some time.

It was why the following morning as you got ready for your day at work, you might have loudly closed a drawer or two before looking over at Harry’s sleeping figure.

Huffing as you looked into the mirror while adjusting your top, you were unaware to Harry stretching and rubbing his eyes before you heard him.

“Good morning, love.”

Your heart raced, turning instantly to look at him. You tried to smile but when that failed, you turned back to give yourself a final look before grabbing your bag, mumbling a halfhearted “good morning.”

“Leaving early?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I want to grab donuts before I go.”

Harry smiled sleepily, “You usually get them donuts when there is good news.”

“I got promoted.” You said, still avoiding looking at him as you walked towards the door, lingering by it before you finally looked at him, finding him looking at you with a grin.

“Really? Baby, that’s wonderful! Congratulations, Honey. You deserve this. C’mere.” And he opened his arms, making grabby hands at you.

That moment, you also hated how you couldn’t fight the urge to go to him because that was exactly what you did. You walked towards him, sitting beside him and letting him embrace you, peppering kisses on your head.

“I’m proud of you.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him as you closed your eyes. “You are?”

“Of course. Always am.”

You smiled, nuzzling your head into his neck.

Harry wasn’t dumb – he felt it. You missed him, and he, too, missed you. He just couldn’t seem to say no to all the plans that he was invited to – except yours.

“They’re celebrating me tonight. Do you want to come?” You said, and although it was a little muffled, he heard it.

“Tonight’s Steve’s birthday. Remember hi-“

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his embrace, shaking your head at yourself before letting out a chuckle, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Why? What did I- Y/N, you know I can’t miss it. Steve has helped a lot with the album, it wouldn’t be right.”

“He helped with-“ You laughed bitterly, “Right, and I have never helped you with anything. Nothing at all.”

“Don’t take it like that, Y/N.” Harry huffed.

“I’m not taking it like anything, Harry. It doesn’t matter. Don’t wait up. Oh wait,” you stood, giving him a sarcastic smile, “You never do.”

And with that, you were out.

Any other time, you probably would have felt guilty. You would have felt like running back into his arms the moment he opened them. Only, he hadn’t called you, nor had he opened his arms.

There you were, sitting on a stool at the bar as your friends danced and drank, sulking with an untouched cocktail glass, staring at the door every time someone walked in.

But 7 became 8, 8 became 9, and before you knew it, you had driven one of your very drunk colleagues home at 12 and you were back home at 12:30, too sober for your own liking. That was a pathetic celebration, you thought.

You weren’t sure why but the moment you stepped foot inside your shared home with Harry – it was initially his but by the 12th month of your relationship, he had asked you to move in – you couldn’t stop the tears.

Ugly sobs broke the silence in the house, your body shaking with the extra weight of emotions it carried for months.

Maybe it was because even then, Harry wasn’t home and surely, he wasn’t beside you as your friends celebrated a big event in your life. Maybe it was because you received a notification that Harry had posted to his close friends story list on Instagram, the story being him holding his phone with the front camera, Harry singing along to a Queen song with Alexa Chung as she had one arm around his shoulders, her other hand holding a cup that resembled the miserable cocktail you had earlier to celebrate yourself.

But you were packing a suitcase.

You were neatly folding some of your clothes in it, putting some of your undergarments in the zipped-up area. You hadn’t bothered to quit crying, you figured that you owed that yourself.

One thing Harry didn’t expect to return to was to see you out, closing your car’s trunk as you stood in your black sweatpants and a grey hoodie, comfortable sneakers on your feet and your hair left with no hairbands or as much as a clip as if you hadn’t bothered to do anything with it.

Quickly parking and turning off his car, his eyes had glanced at the time quickly, finding it reading 2:21AM. Harry was quick to get out, noticing your movement to your driver side halt as you heard so.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he approached you, feeling worried and scared as he stared at the back of your head as you were yet to turn.

But you did, and Harry found himself staring your puffy eyes, tears in clouding the color he loved too much and his heart broke.

“I’m leaving.”

If it was possible, his heart would have beat its way out of his chest.

“L-Leaving wh-where? What?”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m done.”

“Y/N, baby,” he cooed, stepping closer, “Let’s talk, alright?” He gently put his hands on your arms, only to have you shrug them off, breaking his heart even more and causing a lump to form in his throat.

“No! We’re not going to talk, Harry. I’m done talking. I’m done waiting. I’m done being alone in this fucking house – in this- this fucking relationship!” You cried.

“Baby, please,” his jaw clenched as he tried to control his breathing and to push back the tears, “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

You shook your head, “I gave you everything. I tried everything and it’s just not working. I’m done giving, Harry. Please, just understand.” You stepped closer to him, cupping his face, “You’re never here for me anymore and I’m done holding on to the ghost of you.”

“What can I do? Anything, please,” his nose reddened, eyes going tearful as he was just about to melt in your hands, watching you shake your head, “Please, lovie, anything.”

“I’m done.” You whispered in the midst of a sob, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I tried.”

And with that, you got into the car before speeding off, leaving Harry standing there, his heart seeming to wave him off as he watched your car disappear.

//

He was shit.

He had tried to contact you, even tried to visit you at your work only to get told that you were taking a few days off.

He messaged you everyday for 3 weeks, called and left voice notes.

His friends felt bad for him when they knew, but they felt worse when he broke down one day when his band visited to check up on him,

“If only I wasn’t part of all of this! If you didn’t drag me into all of this shit, she would have still been here! Right here in her fucking home with me!”

“Hey! You got no one to blame but yourself. You’re the one who decided to blow her off every time, even when Mitch and I asked you about her and gave you an earful so don’t fucking put the blame on anyone but yourself, Harry!” Sarah had knocked some sense into him, “I love you and all, but this is all you and whatever will happen next will be you. Don’t wait for anyone to pick up your mess because it’s about time you act and show her you love her.”

He deserved that.

Harry had tried countless of times, visited your old apartment only to face an old man holding a puppy who had no idea who you were.

He found himself sitting in his studio one night – where he slept because he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in your bedroom – his journal perched up as his pen worked on it. It was like he didn’t need to think about it, he went on auto-pilot and before he could realize it, he had written a song.

You weren’t any better. 2 months later and you were still avoiding his calls. It didn’t help that you got another phone and number but kept your old one, only to know that he still remembered you and you felt pathetic for it.

His fans were bombarding you with questions on yours and his whereabouts, saying that you’ve been inactive for way too long and it wasn’t like you to not interact with them, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

By the 3rd month, you began to go other places than your workplace.

You met up with 2 of your friends, giving them short answers and “yeah”s as they talked. With your mind being somewhere else, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram, checking your explore page.

And there it finally was; a picture of him. His beard and moustache had grown, untrimmed and messy as his hair. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, yellow sweatpants and a grey hoodie worn along with his running shoes while he walked.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you opened the photo, checking the caption to read it;

‘Harry out a few minutes ago!’

As fresh as your favorite home baked pastries this photo was. Your eyes moved from him to the shop behind him, zooming with your fingers before letting out a gasp.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” One of your friends asked.

“I have to go.” You quickly said, slinging on your bag before you shot out of your seat and outside, frantically looking left and right before walking towards the shop you had seen in the picture.

You didn’t even know what you were doing. Hell, you shouldn’t have been doing that, looking for him like that.

You panted, reaching up to place a hand on your rapidly beating heart as you stood in front of the shop.

God, you felt stupid.

“Y/N…”

You heard it, then you felt it; his hand, gentle on your shoulder.

You turned, coming face to face with the man you had sworn up and down was the love of your life – and you knew he still was.

He snatched off his sunglasses, as if they played a trick on him but they weren’t because you stood right there.

“You’re here.” He breathed out.

Harry’s green eyes were staring into yours, hand still on your shoulder.

At the feeling that rushed through you; one that made you feel that one more minute and you would be in his arms, kissing him and going back home with him, you slowly shook your head. “I have to leave.”

“No, please, please, a minute. Just a minute.” Harry pleaded with wide eyes, desperation in his voice.

“If I stay for one more minute, I won’t control myself. Please let me go.” You closed your eyes as you spoke softly.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You did it more than once.”

One final jab to his heart, you turned, rushing to cross the street before getting in your car.

//

The news of a sudden single drop was everywhere.

Friends and family texted you to ask if you had heard the song, most asking you to “please talk it out with Harry, he seems really sorry.”

Your coffee, sat waiting for you as you read the wave of tweets that crashed on you from fans, most of asking you what your friends and family asked of you, some others apologizing on his behalf, some others questions if the song was about you to begin with, and some others giving you shit for “breaking Harry’s heart.”

You were quick to click on a YouTube link that was attached to a tweet of a fan reacting to the song, sitting up straight and suddenly feeling nauseous as the screen changed.

Harry Styles – Reasons To Hate You.

Your stomach dropped as you saw him. In a white tee and black shorts, his hair was held back with your light blue clip while he sat in a chair behind his mic in the comfort of your home studio, holding the black guitar you had gifted him for his 26th birthday.

“Can you just lie to me

And ruin these memories

'Cause I've gotta forget somehow

So I'm begging you, burn us to the ground,” Harry sang as he played the guitar.

“Cause I know it's over

But I don't know what to do

So help me get over

Help me get over you,”

With no intentions to stop the tears, you let yourself cry, reaching up to stifle a sob by putting a hand to your mouth.

“And tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me

'Cause I need a reason to hate you, a reason to let you go

A reason to move on 'cause without one I know I won't

So tell me you love somebody else or something

Or say you've been unfaithful to me.”

He had looked up to his camera, and as he did, you felt like he was physically there and singing for you.

“Where do we go from here?

Do you just disappear?

'Cause I don't think I can be your friend

When it feels like the break isn't gonna mend.”

You stopped questioning your moves, and as proof, you had no idea what you were thinking when you grabbed your car keys and bolted out of the studio apartment you had rented, the song still playing.

“'Cause even after all this time, I'm hoping I can change your mind

'Cause hope's the only open door left to choose

So let me out for good because I know that I'm not strong enough

To stop myself from feeling things for you

So don't give me the truth.”

And you drove to him, right back to your home.

The song had replayed itself 4 times before you were finally out of your car and rushing to the door, ringing the bell and knocking, cursing yourself for forgetting your keys back at that apartment.

The door opened and there he stood, in the same clothes with the same clip holding back his hair.

Harry didn’t have time to comprehend before you threw yourself at him, crying into his chest.

“You’re such an asshole.” You cried, “How can you release something like that, you shit?”

He held on to you, hiding his face in your hair as he took you in.

“Next time, even an album won’t bring me back, you understand?” You mumble, feeling his arms tighten around you as he kissed your head then shoulder.

“There won’t be a next time.”

[onyxheartbeat]

Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,

this is a long post but I must discuss this.

________

I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:

________

“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs.  Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by  an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”

_________

Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville. 

I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.

I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.

Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic. 

I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.

You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

[allthingsfuckd]

soft spot | Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

summary: Bucky, the diner owner pining for the reader, a regular at the diner and best friend, for years.

a/n: i wanted to post a Peter Parker fic but i had writer's block until i came to this idea. it's based on a few of my fav Luke and Lorelai moments from Gilmore Girls combined into this one fic. i hope you enjoy! as usual, feedback is very much appreciated and my requests are open. (you don't need to watch Gilmore Girls to understand it)

warning(s): fluff, teen pregnancy, absent father, pining.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee,” you repeated, your chest pressed against the counter, an evil smile on your face. He turned to face you and placed his hands on the counter, the chanting stopped. You purse your lips trying to contain your smile.

“You know it ruins your body, slowly corrodes your insides, and makes you die really really young, right?” he says squinting at you as he makes hand gestures.

“That’s the intention,” you say smiling up at him showing your teeth. You both stayed like that for a few seconds until he turned around, grabbed a mug, and the kettle from the coffee machine. Still squinting at you, he poured the coffee in the mug and slid it over the counter to you.

“I really hope it’s soon,” he grumbles, throwing the kitchen towel on his shoulders, and walks (or stomps) back to the kitchen. You sat there, coffee in your hands, smiling as you took a sip.

The door rings open and you hear a familiar voice. “Did you get one for me?” you turned in your bar stool to look at the figure that walked up to you. The beautiful girl who you delightfully brought into the world almost 16 years ago, Leah.

You shook your head, fake-pouting. A grumble came from the teen, something you could very much relate to; caffeine deficiency. “I tried, I tried but Bucky’s in his element this morning,” you shrugged your shoulders, stretching to the left to see if he was still in the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get one myself. He likes me,” she turned to face the kitchen, chanting his name as you did earlier. You hear them arguing as you enjoyed the drink in your hand. It was white noise to you — the arguing, especially in Bucky’s diner. With him being the crabby man you’ve always known him to be, it was basically daily routine.

“You were right, he is grumpy this morning,” she said when he walked away again, this time to the back. “Wonder what happened,” she said, shrugging as she took a sip of her coffee.

People in the town have always talked about how similar you both were; you and Leah. Sometimes it did feel like you were looking in the mirror and reliving your teen years as she told you stories about her day and it would scare the fuck out of you.

“Hey, so birthday planning. Let’s go,” she patted your forearm, waking you from your thoughts, excited to turn 16. You sat up and giggled, feeling excitement running up your spine.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have it at home this year,” she nods. “After last year’s event, I vowed to never again go to a Ms. Patty party,” you both shudder, remembering the massive drunken embarrassment you had to go through at your 15-year-old’s birthday party. “Before that, we’re going somewhere special, a surprise if you may. Then we’re going shopping, which thank god your birthday is the end of the month. Cause how could we have lux on your birthday without a paycheck. We’ve got a date with your dad, says he wants to finally actually give you your gift in person this year? And a massive birthday cake with your face on it by the one and only Sookie, as per tradition,” you yap, fast-paced.

“Wait, we’re meeting dad?” she asks, cutting you off. You nodded fast, feeling the caffeine kick in. She smiled, looking down at her mug. And that’s when you felt beat up. When it came to Christopher, it always put a smile on her face. Maybe they were right. You were alike. So easily manipulated by the one man in both of your lives, who is only always there when time and circumstances met his convenience. Something naivete and youth made Leah fail to realize.

“Okay, kiddo. We’ll discuss birthday matters this evening, it’s almost 8,” you picked up her bag, gravity pulling your hand down soon after. “Woah, wormie, what are you carrying? Bricks?” you teased.

“You never know how much reading I can get done with all the waiting we do in school,” she whined after downing her coffee. She kissed your cheek and left the diner.

“God, that kid is something special,” you hear Bucky say as you both watched her walk to the school right opposite the diner. You turned around looking down at your mug, Bucky noticing a frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, bending down to look at your face.

You looked up, smiling a little. “It’s Leah’s dad,” you scrunched your nose. You never talked about Chris with anyone in the town except with Sookie and Bucky, the name and subject a sensitive topic to you. Never saying his name as if terrified some sort of evil would be summoned. Your relationship with him was beyond complex. You were best friends before anything, you-me-against-the-world (or against parents and the rich community you were brought up in), you knew him like the back of your hand. You still see him as such but since you found out you were pregnant, it all took a different turn and it wasn’t something you felt was right for either of you.

“He called again,” Bucky’s voice annoyed, rolling his eyes. He’d met him once and it was the most awkward, testosterone-filled conversation you’d ever witness. You snickered, knowing how he, as much as you, despised talking about him. “Hey,” he touches your forearm with his leather-gloved forefinger. You looked up at him. “If anything, you come to me,” you half-smiled.

Everyone in this small town knew about the mother-daughter dynamic you and Leah had. Hearing how she turned out great with just you raising her was something you heard very often, something you wished you felt through every fiber of your being. But you didn’t. And Bucky knew you struggled with that, trying his best to remind you every time you doubted. More often than not, she reminded you a lot more of Bucky than Chris, since she grew up knowing Bucky more than her dad.

“Thanks, old man,” you said, snickering behind your mug. He backed away from the counter, his grumpy face showing again. His eyebrows furrowed and his cheekbones prominent. He hated it when you called him that. He may be over a hundred years old but technically he was your age, he would remind you. “There he is!” you cheered, laughing at his frowned face.

“You have a problem,” Bucky said, taking the mug from your hand, and you slid the bill across the table. Still maintaining your gazes, seeing a small smile starting to form on his lips.

You were known by the whole town to be completely oblivious, seemingly being the only one who doesn’t know how Bucky has been pining for you for years. Even from Mars, the love he held for you in his heart could be seen. He tried several times to ask you out on a date, getting closer and closer each time he would try but something always had to happen right at the time he wanted to spit the words out of his mouth. A coward, as Sam, another regular at the diner, would call him when he realized he'd been staring at her.

You did, however, think about dating him once after having a moment with him in the diner. It was late, and you wanted coffee after a bad date. Nearly kissing until Kirk came into the diner to get his emergency late-night burger. You brought it to Leah’s attention, but to that she immediately declined, saying it might ruin the best coffee in town for the both of you.

Saturday rolled around; Leah’s birthday. You woke her up at 3 a.m., another annual essential where you would tell her the infamous story of the day she was born.

“What do you think of your life thus far, my dear?” you brushed her hair as your lied down next to her.

“I think it’s great,” she yawned.

“Any complaints?” you asked, and she shook her head. “I think you’re a great cool kid and the best friend a girl could have,” you said to her lovingly.

“Back at ya,” she answered.

“And it’s so hard to believe that many moons ago I was lying in exactly this same position,” you looked up at the ceiling, flashbacks playing in your head.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Leah said. You shushed her and continued the story.

When you walked into the diner, you were greeted by Bucky at the front door. You frowned at him, being too close to you, your hands hovered over his chest. He opened an arm to gesture you to a table by the window on your right. When you looked, your jaw dropped. He decorated the table. He laid a beautiful lace tablecloth, with a vase filled with flowers in the middle and balloons next to one of the chairs and Leah’s favorite; a rainbow cake, with a lot of frosting.

“Bucky, what is this? This isn’t you. And flowers?” you looked at him, eyes in disbelief. He shrugged. “This is amazing,” you touched the table cloth, mouth agape. “Thank you, Bucky,” you hugged him, his face red to which you were too busy to see.

He walked away, knowing your order before you could tell him. The Y/N Special he printed in the new menu. Leah came into the diner, you sat up and smiled as you waited for her reaction. “What is all this?” her jaw dropped as well.

“It’s all Bucky,” you shook your head, as she caressed the lace tablecloth. “Where he got this tablecloth? No idea!” you leaned in, whispering loudly.

“Bucky, you big ole softy,” she said to Bucky who came with your regular. He blushed when she gave him a hug, quiet as he walked back behind the counter. Your eyes followed him, still surprised by his adorable gesture.

“Hey, remember what I said about dating Bucky?” you asked her, still looking at Bucky who was taking orders. She hummed as she gobbled down her food. “Do you think it’ll work out if we did?” you asked again.

“Honestly, I think it will,” she said, cheeks stuffed with food. “Especially after this,” she gestured to the decorations. “But yeah, I do,” she said after swallowing her food, following your gaze to look at him.

It was the first time she’d ever okayed a man in your life other than Chris. You both loved Bucky especially after what he’s been through. The grumpy demeanor he displays justified.

Lane, Leah’s best friend walked into the diner, squealing as she hugged and wished her. You stood up with your order and walked to the counter to allow them to chat.

“Hey, Buck,” you said, seeing him clean his toaster. He hummed, his back still facing you. “With your expertise displayed on the very lovely table there, could you help Sookie out with decorating my place while Leah and I frolic about town?” you asked, chewing on your waffles.

“Yeah, sure anything for my best customers,” he said as he grunted, fixing the toaster.

“Why don’t you use your tools?” you asked, pointing at the toaster with your knife. Stopping what he did, he turned to shoot a glare at you.

“My toolbox is sitting in your lovely home collecting dust because you could not and will not bother to give it back to me,” he complained. You snickered knowingly since you purposely brought up his toolbox.

“Well, it’s the only thing in the house that warns burglars that there could possibly be a man in the house,” you said melodramatically as you enjoyed your food. He grabbed the knife and fork out of your hand, your hands up in the air and mouth open. You placed your hands on your lap and sighed.

“Fine, you can have John back,” you said. His eyebrows crossed in confusion and frustration. You had a track record of being stubborn and playful. Something everyone who knew you grew to normalise.

“Not every non-living thing needs to have a name,” he said, putting the utensils back on your plate.

“Yes they do. I could tell visitors that John is in the living room sitting on the floor,” and you continued to yap Bucky’s ears off until you left to bring Leah on her birthday adventure. Reminding him that you left the decorations by the couch at home and he could use the key hidden under the turtle statue.

It was almost 1 a.m., Bucky heard a loud voice from outside, he dragged his feet to the window and opened it, sticking half his body out. Flinching when he saw a stone coming in his direction. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at you in your pjs, holding a pillow under your arm. He was wearing short-sleeved t-shirt, something you barely saw him wear.

“I’m homeless! I’ve got nowhere to go,” you shouted back. You heard a window open at the next building and turned to face it. An old man appeared out of the window.

“Hey, would you shut up? It’s late!” the old man with his thick Boston accent shouted at you. You looked at him and then at Bucky then back at him and burst out laughing. “Would you please get her the hell outta here?” the man said to Bucky and went back inside. He went down to get you, groaning as he walked down finding you, still in a fit of laughter.

“The resemblance? Uncanny!” you said, still laughing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the diner.

You helped Bucky set up the mattress after looking around his apartment and teasing him for things he owned. Being friends with him for years, you’d never been in his “home” above the diner before.

“What made you homeless tonight?” Bucky asks as you fixed the bedsheet together.

“Everyone else passed out drunk, even Chris,” you said. Shocked that you brought up his name, he fiddled with his fingers as he sat by his dining table. “I’m still kinda drunk. That name slipped out of my mouth,” you said, laughing nervously, sitting next to him.

“What did he do this time?” he asked looking up from his hands.

“Surprisingly, he was nice. He was a dad for once but he hasn’t left so we’ll see what happens,” you sighed. Bucky knew the reason for your uncertainty with raising Leah was because of Chris. The seed of doubt sprouted after years of Chris reminding you that you couldn’t do it alone which made Bucky’s blood boil.

“At least she’s not pregnant yet,” you said, running your hands against the wooden dining table.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” he said. “You were 16?” he asked.

“15 and a half,” you pointed out. “Ruined my 16th birthday, my mother said. What a disappointment it must have been for my parents to have me,” you looked at him.

“Can’t imagine anyone seeing you as a disappointment,” he shook his head and you sighed.

“You know, Buck. Seeing what you do for Leah, I bet you’ll make a great dad one day,” you mention, examining his face. His eyes looked sleepy.

“You make a great mom. This whole town can vouch for that fact. For how young you were when you had her, 15 and a half? Every parent makes mistakes but you make the mistakes seem like fun,” you chuckled. “You were never alone in raising her. The town has played a part in raising her with you much more than Chris ever did so I don’t know what the fuck he’s talkin' about,” he says, a lump formed in your throat.

“Yeah, it’s just the daughter part I, uh, I don’t have down yet,” Bucky exhaled through his nose. You thought about a recent fight you had with Leah about the boy she’d been dating. Something you brought up as a problem because you were terrified of possible outcomes. But you knew he was a great boy, Dean. Sweet, charming and a gentleman.

“You looked great tonight,” you placed your hand on his, you felt the cold metal against your skin. You’d never really seen his metal arm, always hidden under the sleeve of his leather jacket and gloves. His signature look, even in the summer. You stroked his metal hand and even though he couldn’t physically feel your touch, he felt goosebumps form on his skin. Physical touch was never a part of your friendship.

He smirked, raising his brow and tilting his head making you roll your eyes. “I don’t mean you don’t look great all the time, you do, and,” you groaned. “Don’t be cocky now,” you clicked your tongue, laughing, still smirking at you.

“You looked great too,” his voice cracked, coughing to clear his throat. “y/n,” he called your name, his voice lower and deeper.

“Yeah?” you whispered. His eyes softer than you were used to, finally seeing his blue eyes.

“Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?” he asked, eyes looking at your lips then back to your eyes. He felt his palm get sweaty, heart thumped loudly in his chest he swore you could hear it. He’d always have the words play in his head but he never thought the moment would ever come.

You felt your cheeks burn, you never thought he’d ever ask you. He studied your face to predict what you were gonna say, cringing a little expecting a bad answer or a laugh.

“I would love to, Buck,” you bit your bottom lip. He let out the breath he held, smiling as he shifted in his seat. After years of pining, he finally got to take his favorite girl on a date.

[starlightsearches]

obviously no pressure because I had already sent a request before this one, but I saw those smutty one liners prompt and ohh boy. Could I ask for 1 + 9 with Hux, please? Love ya, Star!

Negotiations

Thanks to everyone who sent in a request for this one! I can't believe I thought combining these all into one would make it easier for me 😅

And another thanks to @trelaney for inspiring this idea, I hope I did it justice 🥰

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x Reader (f)

1. mirror sex 4. voice kink 23. possessiveness and 26. watching the other get off from the Kink Prompt List

1. “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.” 6. “My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” and 9. “I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.” from the Smutty One-Liners Prompt List

10. “Look at you.” and 21. “Touch yourself.” from the Top/Dom Prompt List

Warnings: Plot heavy, barely any smut (but still 18+ only), language, gendered pet names, masturbation (f), and I think that's it! Let me know what you think, my loves 💖

Your lips twist into a frown as you stare down your reflection in the mirror, eyes completely focused on the neckline of your dress.

If this were any other day, you probably wouldn't have noticed how low the gown sits on your chest, but now the long expanse of exposed skin between your neck and your midriff seems to stretch on endlessly, like you're putting everything out on display.

Foreign politics were always a delicate matter; no detail was too small to be noticed, and you’ve always been excellent at navigating these dangerous social waters. You're not used to feeling so listless, unmoored before an event. Your eyes glazed over each time you attempted to read through the guest list for tonight, stopping whenever you reached the only group you cared to see.

The First Order Delegation.

Your heart thunders in your chest. Would he be there?

"Excuse me, your highness," there's a knock, and you look up at the interruption; it's one of your attendants hovering in the doorway, “everything is ready in the ballroom, for the guests," she says quietly as she steps inside, "I’m sure it will be wonderful, despite . . ."

She trails off there, but you know what she’s thinking. While you’d met with the members of the First Order on many occasions, they’d never attended a gathering at the palace. Your planet is not technically Republic territory, most of its populace sided strongly with their politics, yourself included. Any compromise you made with the Order became a dangerous balancing act—always forced to calculate the risk based on your relative lack of defense and the Order’s hunger for your resources.

You press your lips together in a half smile, "yes, of course, I’m sure they won’t manage to ruin all our fun—" you pause, smoothing your hands over your full skirts, unable to restrain yourself from speaking of him, "I just hope their general is not with them."

"Pompous ass,“ she mutters under her breath before meeting your eyes in the mirror, hers wide with guilt, probably wondering if you'll admonish her for using such language in reference to your guests.

“You’re right,” you say instead, ”he is a pompous ass.”

She giggles, and you do your best to smile despite the sadness that washes over you. She would hate you, if she knew the truth. They all would.

You had made excuses for yourself the first time it happened: sex was just another resource, like any other. You knew what he wanted from the moment your eyes first met, and what was a kiss compared to the promise of safety for you and your home?

Although you never stopped at just a kiss. And there was nothing safe about the way you wanted him.

The guilt sits heavily in your stomach as you make your way through the palace, greeting each of the staff members you pass with a gentle nod. Are you hiding your anxieties well? Or can they read your every thought plain on your face?

Armitage can, damn him. You’ve never been able to hide from each other. It’s horrible, unsightly, like being without skin, all your inner workings exposed to the light.

If the circumstances were different, you’d call it love.

But there’s no time to ponder that tragedy; your guests have started to arrive, and now you’re occupied with the benign pleasantries required of your job. It is nice to have something to do, though, and for a moment, the general almost leaves your mind completely.

You’re making pleasant conversation with another visiting dignitary when the room falls quiet.

It has to be them. You should go to welcome them, but you can’t force yourself to move. What would you do, if he was there, if you came face to face again with the man who haunts your dreams?

Or worse, what would you do if he wasn’t?

“Your highness,” the voice sounds low in your ear, and you whirl, just to prove you’re not hallucinating.

Your dreams have not done him justice; he’s even more handsome than you remember—the intensity of his gaze exaggerated by the soft, shadowy bruises underneath his eyes. You’d like to stroke your fingers over them, smudge away his fears like a stain underneath your thumb, but the skin appears too delicate. You’re afraid it might break him.

“General Hux,” you offer him your hand instead, inclining your head slightly in response to his bow. His lips just barely caress your knuckles, and even that makes you lightheaded.

He drops your hand with some reluctance, and you greet the rest of his delegation. The pressure of his eyes never leaves you, even after they walk away. The night moves on tediously, and you can’t help but notice how you both move through the room like puppets in tangled strings, always aware of how near he is, unable to part from him even if you wanted to.

You’re drinking champagne in one of the quieter corners, trying to catch your breath from the last dance when he finds you again.

“I’d like to speak with you about the current trade situation with Dasi Nerus,” he says, grabbing his own glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Immediately you’re on edge, searching for any wandering eyes in the crowd, or any loaded glances in your direction. You don’t want to be seen with him, not when your self-control is so clearly absent.

"Please, general. There will be plenty of time for business later."

You try to leave, but he blocks your path. "I'm not here for business."

Gods, he can be frustrating. Your tone is too petulant for the situation, but you can’t stop the biting words from breaking through your lips. "Then what are you here for? Pleasure?"

He takes another sip of his champagne, avoiding your eyes.

As you said—frustrating. Your heart jumps against your rib cage, drawn to him like a magnet. You have to get away.

With no other option, you turn to leave, spinning on the balls of your feet and moving back towards the crowd . . . until you're not.

It happens too quickly, but you manage to collect the most important pieces: his hand gripping your wrist, a waiter suddenly in your path, the sticky chill of wine spilling down your chest.

“Your highness,” the waiter cries, horrified, “please forgive me, I didn't see you.”

“It’s alright,” you try to assure him, but it’s no use. You’ve been surrounded by a tiny army of attendants, trying to clean you up while still maintaining your dignity, ushering you towards the door.

The general is nowhere to be seen.

You manage to abandon your harried entourage once you arrive in your chambers, removing the soaked gown from your body and returning to the comfort of your robe.

Stars. It's possible that that could have gone worse, but you're not creative enough to imagine how.

The dress is probably ruined, unless somebody in the laundry has learned how to work miracles. It serves you right, after everything you've done.

You leave your melancholy along with the dress, dropping it at your feet before sitting down in front of the mirror, a damp cloth in hand. The wine washes away quickly, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it, the cool water against your flushed skin, the rough texture of the towel.

You don't even notice when the door opens behind you.

“Are you alright?”

It's only after you meet his eyes in the mirror that you jump, when you feel his cool gaze along the back of your neck. You can't stand it—like fingers grazing your spine—and you whirl, turning to face him.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“The door was unlocked,” he states, leaning against the wall next to the large, gilt bath tub, “do you want me to leave?”

Even now, he looks perfect. Imposing, in control of the situation, like he's the one who belongs here and you're interfering. You never feel like that, no matter how long you've managed to run a planet on your own. It might be the quality that appeals to you most.

Because it's the one you feel you lack.

You roll your eyes, at yourself more than him. "Yes. You should return to the party."

He stares you down, undeterred. "Are you being honest with me?"

No. Damn him. You grit your teeth together.

"Does it matter, general? Or would you stay here and torment me regardless?"

He scoffs, pinching the bridge of his knows like he couldn't imagine a conversation more draining. “Torment you? Please. You’ve ruined my life.”

Your jaw drops, mouth gone dry. “Excuse me?”

"You’re haunting me,” he says, dropping his hand from his face, eyes red and raw. There's so much pain there, so much suffering behind his eyes.

“Haunting you?”

“You’re in my dreams," he says, "every time I try to sleep. I feel the weight of your legs wrapped around my waist, wake up with the taste of you on my tongue. It’s ruined me.”

Oh. Your eyes go wide, lips pressed together so tight that it stings.

"I dream about you, too," you can't help the words from spilling out, pouring across the room like shattered glass, and just as dangerous, “even when I’m awake. The moment I lose focus, I find myself imagining what it would be like to count every one of your freckles with my lips. How it would feel to wake up by your side."

He stands frozen, thinking. Calculating. You know he hasn't missed your meaning. Those words are a knife's edge in his hand; you'd give him anything he could ask for.

He sighs instead, "so where does that leave us?"

"I don't know," it's frightening to admit, heart pounding when you speak those words, "but I want you, now. Even if it ruins everything."

He looks at you sharply, infuriated, like he can't bear to believe that you might be telling the truth.

You shouldn't, but you can't stop yourself. Reaching for him, watching your shaking fingers brushing against the back of his hand.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, lips trembling as he fights the smile threatening to split his face. There's too much honesty in the room, both of you about to drown in the vulnerability that swims around your shoulders.

He resorts to something familiar.

“Look at you,” he stalks closer, familiar tone sending a thrill through your stomach as he strokes the tip of his finger down the side of your face, taking your jaw between his fingers, “begging for me. Tell me, princess, are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” you stand from the chair when he guides you, turning you to face the mirror.

“Show me. Touch yourself.”

Your hands shake as they slide down your body, slipping underneath the hem of your robe. Your thighs radiate heat, slick with sweat, muscles tight. You're starved for air, lightheaded as you slip your hand between your legs, just barely brushing your entrance with the tip of your finger.

You can’t help your response, your jaw falling open with a soft pop, eyes fluttering closed when you trace with the slightest pressure over your clit.

"Good girl," he whispers, pinning you against the counter top with his hips. His hands stroke across your waist, and he tugs at the tie on your robe with two fingers until the fabric parts, your skin on full display.

He pushes the fabric aside, thumb stroking over your peaked nipple as he whispers against your throat.

"Why don't you tell me more about those dreams?"

18+ Hux Tag List: @thembohux, @writingletterstothefire, @missmadwoman, @evarinaandlat, @sitherin-mxschief, @imafatassmess, @toasterking, @rosevon7975, @pradahux, @armitages-galaxy, @dark-lord-of-the-simps, @daughterofaries, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @theold-ultraviolence, @mrs-ghuleh, @lemongingerart, @isthisheaven5, @trash-queen-af, @generalthirst, @tobealostwanderer, @huxxoxo, @theoriginalannoyingbird, @liceforlunch, @g3n3ralhux, @mylifeisactuallyamess, @superunkn0wn, @therealnoex, @luna-is-on-mars, @xxinvisiblexx

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[luminouspoes]

until the poets run out of rhyme

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader (modern au)

summary: poe and the reader go out for drinks with their friends, but soon have to make a detour in their evening plans. (based on the prompt: if you want to leave, we can)

word count: 4k ~

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, sensory overload

You curl and uncurl your feet, burying your toes into the plush of your carpet, gnawing on your bottom lip as you stare at the dress on your bed. In just under an hour, your long-time best friend Poe Dameron will be showing up to pick you up to take you to Maz’s for drinks with Snap, Jess, Kare and Sura to celebrate Sura’s most recent journalism award. 

You aren't as close to them as you are to Poe - they were more his group of friends rather than your shared one of him, Finn and Rey - but they’d welcomed you with warm arms long ago, much like how your group of friends - Kaydel, Beaumont and Rose - welcomed Poe.

Which means that you really want to go to Maz’s bar and enjoy drinks with him, his friends, and celebrate Sura’s big moment because you know how much ass she kicks at her job and just how hard she's worked to get where she is today. But familiar icy ribbons of anxiety have coiled in your gut, spilling up and twisting around your heart at the idea of going out.

You close your eyes, breathing out slowly. Briefly, you remember something Poe once said, half as a joke, half as a genuine reassurance to himself, and you mumble it out loud to yourself in the empty room, “Happy beeps. You can do this.”

It doesn’t erase your anxiety, but the memory of your best friend is enough to bring a sense of comfort to you, and you grab the dress with a gentle smile on your lips to get dressed. The skirt flares out at your knees, and is a deep shade of red, with a sheer neck and sleeves. It’s comfortable, and once you add a pair of flat heeled ankle boots to the look, you think you’re just about ready.

You grab your purse and duck out of your bedroom into your living room, stopping by the bookcase to make your decision on which book to take. Finn and Rey were at first baffled by this trait of yours (then immediately started joking about how you really were perfect for Poe), but you never left home without a book within reach. Most of the time, you didn’t actually get a chance to even read it, but knowing you had one...helped your nerves. It was like carrying a miniature hug in your purse.

It took you longer than you expected to land on a decision: by the time you’re shoving your selected paperback into your purse, there’s a familiar knock on the door. Your heart does a quick somersault in your chest, and you bound to the door. You peer out the peep-hole, to see Poe standing in the hallway, waving a cheeky hello in your direction.

You grin as you unlatch the door, opening it with a swing. Your greeting flees from your mind as you take in the sight of him. It’s not so different from his usual attire, but he’s ditched his usual tee-shirt and beat-up leather flight jacket for a black button-up and black leather jacket. The jeans, however, are the same.

“Wow,” Poe breathes, beating you to the compliment as he gawks at you. “You look...really pretty.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you duck your head, giving a slight twirl so the skirt will flare out around you as you spin. When you come back to a stop in front of him, Poe’s still got that gobsmacked expression on your face that sends butterflies soaring in your gut. “You think?”

“I know,” Poe affirms, composing himself. “You ready for this?”

You nod once, “Just let me get my purse, I forgot it on the counter. You can come in, you know. You don’t have to wait outside every time, you’re not a vampire.” You don’t look behind you as you move through your apartment, but you hear the door click behind Poe as he follows.

“I could be, you don’t know for sure.” Poe calls. 

You bark a laugh as you pull your purse over your shoulder, twisting to face him as he crosses the room to you. “Mhm, I’ve seen you doing your hair in the mirror before, you have a reflection. You love the sunlight, and you always eat the garlic bread I make when we have dinner parties.” 

“I could be a recent vampire?” Poe tries with a lopsided smile, and you giggle again. His eyes light up at the sound; he loves hearing your laugh but especially loves it when he’s the cause of it. He’ll be purposely ridiculous for it any day of the week. “Got your book?” 

You pull it from your bag to show him the cover, and he clicks his tongue appreciatively, “Good taste.” 

"I always have good taste in books.”

Poe hums in response, taking a step closer to you. Moments like these come easily, where the rest of the world just...fades away until it’s just the two of you. It drives your friends up a wall, but you couldn’t care less when Poe looks at you like you’re his whole world and his lips are quirked up in a little bit of a smirk as he banters back. “I don’t know about,” he says in a low tone, dragging his gaze from the cover back up to your face and you swear for just a moment he pauses on your lips, "you like horror novels.”

Your heart thundering against your ribcage for a much different reason now, you fight to keep your eyes in a safe zone. The way he’s looking at you makes every possible response you could normally think of fly right out of your mind, as your mouth goes dry. Finally, you take another step forward, challenging him with a smirk of your own, "That’s because I’m not afraid to read them like some people, Dameron.”

“I’m not afraid,” Poe protests automatically, the argument a familiar one, but neither of you are really focused on running through the motions of it right now.

The room seems to crackle with energy and potential around you, and part of you so desperately wants to take that leap, but the other half is terrified that if you do, then you’ll lose this magic, this friendship you’ve nurtured with Poe for the last five years. So you dip your head at the last second, folding first. 

Breaking out of his own trance, Poe takes a slight step back before he holds out his arm to you, “Ready?”

There’s that spike of nerves again, but you brave through it, nod once and loop your arm through his. “Let’s rock and roll,”  you hesitate just a moment as you think of the moment before and how easily the two of you still managed to fall into each other’s personal space again. Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about. “Oh and Poe?”

“Yeah?” He asks as you step out into the hallway, cocking his head towards you.

“You look pretty wow too,” you tell him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. 

-

It goes well, for the most part. The others grabbed a booth in the corner of the bar, placing you away from the brunt of the noise and crowd. You knew this wasn’t a coincidence: Snap, Kare, Jess and Sura were always accommodating for your anxiety, and it wasn’t as though they didn’t have their own to contend with either. 

Poe leads you to the booth with a hand on the small of your back, a wide grin on his face as he nears his friends. You drink in the sight of his joy, as you do every time you meet up with them, in between reunion hugs with everyone. Then, the two of you settle into one side of the booth, you at the wall and Poe sliding in next to you, his arm winding around behind you on the back of the seat, as he always did, but you surprise him by keeping one hand on his thigh the entire time. 

The conversation comes easily between the six of you, laughter flooding through the corner as you knock back cheers for Suralinda’s accomplishments. By the time you’re halfway through your first (and only) drink, you’ve nearly forgotten about your apprehension. 

It comes back quickly before you hit the bottom of the glass when a new, far rowdier group enters the bar. They aren’t doing anything malicious, but their loud rumbles and hollers are too much combined with the rustle of silverware and clinking of glasses and the noise of the pool table and the radio blaring above, and the tv stationed by Maz’s bar.

You tense up as you try to tune out the rest of the noise to focus on your friends, but you can already feel your nerves beginning to fray, and you just want to run away to somewhere quiet, and that only frustrates you more because you want to be here, in this corner and -

“Hey,” Poe’s voice was but a concerned whisper to get your attention and it cuts through some of the haze in your mind. You turn to him, opening your mouth to...say what you have no idea, but recognition flashes behind his eyes. Poe has an incredible sense for when you’re getting overwhelmed. “If you want to leave, we can.” 

You want to protest, because you’ve barely spent any time here, but before you can, someone drops a glass from across the room and you jump at the sound. “Alright,” Poe says as he locks eyes with Jess, tilting his head toward the door and jerking his thumb in your direction as Snap, Kare and Suralinda continue their argument over a show they all watch. Jess nods in understanding, and then Poe’s standing up and offering you his hand.

You take it after a beat of hesitance, and then he guides you away from all the noise, back outside toward his car. He was one of two designated sober drivers of the night - Snap being the other one.

You slide into the passenger seat, Poe closing the door behind you, before coming around to sit in the driver’s seat. He twists around to face you. He wants to reach out for you, but he knows sometimes touch can make things worse when you’re overwhelmed. “Better?” he asks.

“Yeah, thank you. Sorry for messing up the evening.” You tilt your head back against the seat-rest, eyes closing with exhaustion. This is far from the first time you’ve all had to cut an evening short or take a breather from things, but still...you were hoping tonight would go by smoothly for the celebration.

“You didn’t mess anything up,” Poe assures you, giving you a pained look that you miss. He hates how you blame yourself for things that aren’t even your fault, how you seem to think taking care of you is some horrible burden he and the others have to deal with. He can’t even begin to count how many times you’ve taken care of him when he needed it, how in the last five years, you’ve come to understand and know him in ways that so few could, that you knew exactly what to do to calm and ground him. 

How many times had you held him after he woke up from a nightmare while you were staying at his apartment, or him at yours? How many mornings had he woken up feeling safe and loved, still in your arms in the morning light? He could only hope he made you feel the same way. “We’ve all had a great time already, we got to celebrate Suralinda’s big moment, and if you want, when you’re ready, we can go back in for more fun - and if you’re not up for that, then that’s okay, too.”

You exhale deeply, focusing on his words and the sincerity behind them. You know it’s true - really, you do. You know it’s not as big of a deal as your brain is trying to make it out to be, you know that your brain can lie to you, make shit up that simply isn’t true to make you feel alone, but sometimes it’s hard to rationalize through that, sometimes it’s hard to remember what’s true and what isn’t.

But Poe knows that.

You turn your head to face him; Poe’s half washed in golden light from an overhead streetlight, half cloaked in shadows, and the smile on his lips is rueful. You don’t know how you lucked out at having such an amazing best friend in your life, but you’re suddenly choked up with some soft, overpowering emotion as you realize - not for the first time - how much he means to you.

You duck your head. “Thank you, for always having my back.”

Poe reaches out for you, catching your wrist lightly and his touch burns in the most wonderful way as he grazes his palm down over yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Thank you for the same,” he tells you, before adding with a lopsided smile, “what are best friends for, right?”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling from your lips before you can help it, and you echo his words in agreement, “What are best friends for?” 

-

You head back into Maz’s long enough to say goodbye to everyone and congratulate Sura again, and then you’re climbing back into Poe’s car. You kick off your shoes into the floorboard, tucking one leg under you as Poe offers to drive you around town to help clear your head.

Most nights when you’d go on drives like this, the car would be filled with songs from your favorite playlist and the sound of you and Poe singing along to them. However, tonight it’s filled with a gentle silence occasionally broken by Poe filling it with stories from work that week: he worked at Alderaan Books, a small mom and pop store that’d been a staple in the town for years. It was run by the gentle powerhouse of a woman, Leia Organa, who’d inherited it from her parents Bail and Breha. 

Alderaan Books was entirely the reason why you even had Poe in your life. When you moved into town five years before, you’d decided to familiarize yourself with the various shops and stuff. Eventually, a storm had caught you, and the bookshop was the nearest dry place within quick walking distance. You’d burst inside, shivering and soaked from head to toe, and then there was Poe: with black as midnight curls and twinkling eyes and a soft, friendly smile as he offered you a towel to dry off with.

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the shop, talking with him - because of the storm, you were pretty much the only customer there - getting to know him. By the time he was offering you a cup of coffee and a book recommendation, you knew Alderaan Books and Poe Dameron would become an important part of your life here in this town, and you hadn’t been wrong.

Eventually, he’s turning down the road that leads to his apartment and you feel the rest of the tension in your body deflate. You didn’t fancy the idea of going back to your own apartment, empty and quiet as it was, after tonight. Which Poe would’ve known because you’ve asked to stay with him after being overwhelmed for that exact reason before; still, something warm stirs in your chest as he does so instinctively. 

He does spare a glance at you, to double check if that’s alright, and you give him a grateful nod, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He twists his so that your palms are flush against each other, and he interlocks your fingers together.

(He wishes he could pull your hand up to his lips, press a kiss to your knuckles, and maybe in another life, he could. But in this one, he doesn’t).

You’re both practically leaning against each other as you walk up the stairs to his apartment, your shoes in your hand, as Poe tells you about a book he’d found in their stock that he thought sounded up your alley. This was, in a way, a love language for the two of you: sharing music and books were as much a staple in your relationship as your banter and lack of personal space.

As you reach his door, Poe’s still describing the plot as detailed on the back cover as he unlocks it to let you in. You smile gratefully at him as he holds it open for you, letting you in first. Immediately, you look around the living room to see if you can spy Poe’s beloved cat, Beebee, but he doesn’t seem to be in the room - probably curled up on one of Poe’s bookshelves in his bedroom, since that was one of Beebee’s favorite haunts.

You collapse onto Poe’s couch as he heads to the kitchen to start boiling some water in the electric kettle. You sit your ankle boots neatly between the space between the couch and the little table beside it, and then crash back against the soft pillows. 

“Why is your couch so comfortable?” You call to the kitchen. Poe leans out from the window frame that bridges the kitchen to the living room, his curls falling haphazardly over his brow at the sudden movement.

“Because I have excellent taste,” he reminds you, before he pulls his body back into the kitchen. The ridiculousness of the man that is your best friend makes you laugh, and you slowly haul yourself from the comfort of the cushions to pad to the kitchen. You’re still a little worn out from the evening, but there’s a quiet thrum of energy in you now that you’re somewhere that feels safe and cozy.

He’s pouring water into two different mugs for you both, tea tags hanging loosely at their sides. Your heart warms as you realize he’s pulled out your favorite mug - a dull orange one that you always used for tea, because you’d unconsciously adapted a system at his house and had a different mug for coffee and tea - from the cabinet. When Poe turns around, there’s a gentle smile on his face as he motions at the mugs. “They’ll be done in about four minutes,” he announced unnecessarily, because you knew how long it took for his favorite brand of tea to steep. 

Wordlessly, you pull your phone from your dress’ pocket, and pull up your music player. You press the shuffle button and sit the phone down on the counter, letting the room fill with soft tunes as you wait for your tea, leaning against the counter and letting your head roll back and forth.

Poe’s hand skims down your arm, leaves goosebumps in his wake, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am. Just kind of restless now, you know?” 

“Well,” Poe drawls out, his eyes flicking over to your phone and back at you, a mischievous smile lighting up his handsome features, “we’ve got some time...and you so helpfully gave us a soundtrack,” he presses his hand over his heart and gives you a small bow, flourishing that same hand out to you in offering, “would you allow me this dance, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks warm, a smile rising to your own face and you accept his hand. “I’d like that a lot.” 

He tugs you closer to him, linking both your hands together, and you both begin to dance around the kitchen - clumsy, dorky movements that follow the beat of an Abba song, laughing each time one of you bump into each other or step on each other’s feet. Eventually, you collide against each other, still swaying and bouncing to the music, and you rest your head against Poe’s shoulder.

As the first song fades out, your shuffle immediately begins the next — which just so happens to be “Can’t Help Falling In Love”. Poe shifts into a slower dance and you follow his lead. He presses his nose against the side of your head, and you can feel his breath against your earlobe as he begins to murmur the lyrics of the song.

Like earlier in your apartment, the air between you grows weighted. This isn’t just him singing along to a song, the way he’s reciting the lyrics feels like a confession: a gentle one, one that you could easily ignore if you wanted to - and a thrill of anticipation thrums under your skin as you realize you don’t want to ignore it. You’re not sure you’ve ever known someone so beautiful before: not just in appearance, but in soul. He practically radiates light and love, a constant source of warmth and sunshine in your life that you’ve come to rely on. You can’t imagine life without him: he’s who you picture beside you whenever you think of the future: late night car rides with him, bickering together in the kitchen, cuddling on the couch reading together. He’s your best friend, he’s -

You swallow hard. He’s more than that. You want him, more than anything, and it’s suddenly imperative that he knows that.

“Our tea should be done,” Poe says when the song comes to a close, pulling back to search your eyes for your reaction. 

“They were done by the time Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! ended, Poe.” 

“So they’re really strong cups of tea now,” Poe offers with a lopsided smile. His hands have found a home on your waist, and their warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress. When you still don’t move out of his arms, but rather shift closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek, his breath hitches just slightly before he says your name.

“Yeah?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s internally debating something. Finally, he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” you reply as you run your thumb along his cheekbone. You lean up on your tiptoes, searching his gaze for any signs of hesitance at your closeness, then you finally ask what you’ve wanted to for a fucking long time: “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Poe replies but he doesn’t move any closer to you, instead just asks, “You sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you tell him lowly and the heated look he gives you in return, paired with a dazzling smile you want to remember for as long as you live, is enough to give you the courage you need to crash your lips against his.

He gathers you up in his arms to draw you closer, a warm expansive hand sliding up your spine,to cradle the back of your neck as his other hand grips your hip, fingers bunching around the fabric of your dress. You move your hand from his cheek up into his curls, dragging your fingers through them experimentally, dragging a hum from low in his throat that you want to pull from him again.

You move forward, intending to nudge him back against the kitchen counter, but Poe has other plans, and at the last second, he spins you around so that the counter presses against your back as he presses flush against you. He pulls away from your mouth to pepper kisses everywhere he can reach: your brow, the tip of your nose, your eyelids, your jawline, and finally, your neck, where he stops and stays, burying his face in the crook of it as you hold him against you as you try to catch your breath.

Eventually, with one last brush of his lips against your skin, he straightens and fixes you with a bashful expression. You loop your arms around his neck, smiling up at him, feeling warm and happy. “Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He leans down again, and when your lips meet a second time, you can feel his smile pressed against your own, as he murmurs, “I love you too.”

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

[reylofanfictionanthology]

TO FIND YOUR KISS IS NOW LIVE!  

Authors will be revealed next week!  For now all fics are anonymous.  Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21.  We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars for abbytheatre08

The prompt: After Ben's death, Rey goes mad and turns to the dark side. Only Ben's not dead anymore. ----------------------- She is consuming fire, magnificent in her rage. She will burn the galaxy to its foundations, until the ashes rain down and pile high as mountains. She will gather them into bouquets and scatter them like petals upon his grave.

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained for AlwaysEverlark

The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.

They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.

The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions for Andrina_Nightshade

After visiting an old Sith temple, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has fallen into a deep sleep when he pricks his finger on the point of a red crystal. Rey become is the first to find him, but his rescuer isn't just any general or pilot, it's the woman he shares a soul with, who haunts his waking hours, who still sees him even in his sleep.

- The Dyad for aneighthdomain

Based of the Prompt: Groundhog Day scenario. Ben and Rey keep getting sent back to the first time they met and no matter what they do, Ben always dies so they stop trying to change events and just live a life time in the year between and couple of weeks and run away together.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains for AnneAnna

- The Delegation for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- i don't want you like a best friend for anopendoor

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose told her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, she just didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In for Blueyedgurl

Never in her wildest dreams did Rey Johnson think she would ever get to meet her favorite other Kylo Ren. She also would have never entertained the idea of the scenario she found herself in. How did a hike in the woods lead to a snowstorm and taking shelter in a remote cabin in the woods? The idea was so ridiculous but had become reality. Stuck inside with a handsome stranger surrounded by a winter storm, Rey wonders what will happen with no power and only one bed. Will they be polite co-habitants stuck in a strange set of circumstances or is there room for something more?

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance for Crysania

When Rey and Ben, long time co-workers who have never been able to admit their feelings to each other, go on a weekend retreat to work on a movie adaptation script together, a Nor’easter leaves them snowed in. On Valentine’s Day.

- Awake for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) for DoorKeeper9

- The Canvas of Your Skin for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- Fleeing the Storm for driverfever

As the granddaughter of an merciless aristocrat, Rey’s life hangs on a thread at the hands of the French Revolutionaries. When her childhood friend, Ben, offers to platonically marry her in order to take her to his home in England to safety, she has no choice but to accept.

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure for dustoftheancients

When Princess Rey of Coruscant calls upon the cursed Sir Kylo Ren to help her escape her grandfather the emperor’s political machinations, she discovers freedom in the ancient familial magic that binds them together.

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability for Evangel10n

Benimina Solo has never, not even once, had an ounce of Force Sensitivity. She's done a great deal to move on with her life after failing out of her uncle's Jedi training school. So when Rey Palpatine comes into her life and suddenly everything changes, she's not a happy camper.

- Splatter for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary for firelord65

Kaydel pressed her lips together in a thin line, passing a pile of datapads over the desk. “I don’t know what that pretentious nerf herder has put into your brain, but these are tales of the key roles women have played in past rebellions.” She stood, tapping the pile. “They’re great reads,” she added, with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

- and they danced across the sky for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable for HopeRebel

The woman in the mirror has blood on her clothes, cash in her bag, and a letter from her husband telling her it's better to forget. Well, he got his wish. She forgot everything-- including her name. And she wasn't the only one afflicted.

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh for irridesca

During the last song in Maxine’s set, a song she announces is called “Soul Companion,” Ben heads back out to the lobby to look for Rey. He finds her not with his eyes but with one broad shoulder, when he bumps into her and knocks her gig bag out of her hands and onto the plush carpet.

- and they were roommates for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- If You Take Me for literallynoonecares

She sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- 3 Days in Vienna for Like_A_Dove

Kylo Ren, trained mercenary Alpha assassin, is on a mission—assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and bring his underground authoritarian regime to an end. It’s what the First Order demands, for the better of society.

It should be an easy task. He’s been getting close to the Chancellor and his cronies for years. So how is it that the unexpected appearance of an Omega, with a seemingly similar mission—and a wholly inconveniencing scent—become a distraction he hadn’t accounted for?

- Confidence and Desire for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves for LRRH17

No one knows since when the giant, black bear has lived in the forest near Theed. Many stories about the origin of Kylo Ren circulate in the small village. After Rey has run away from Jakku, and arrived in Theed she has heard them all of, but has never actually meet the creature. This changes when her and her friends get attacked by bandits on their way back from Otoh Gunga.

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side for Lutrosis

Rey's daughter loses her mother as she wanders around the Supermarket. Ben finds her and the two connect over both being Type 1 diabetics. They find Rey, and Ben and Rey are instantly smitten. As they date and fall in love they discover that Jade and Ben are connected more than they thought and healing is brought to the Solo/Skywalker clan.

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life for maq_moon

“Boys, please stop arguing.” Rose rubbed her temples. “Poe, we get it, you’re childhood best buddies, you’ve got a better grasp on his character than some rando of a rando you met at a party. Finn, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been working with Ben for months. I’m pretty sure if he’s a serial killer or whatever, it would have come out by now.” Finn sat back in his seat, grumbling. “Not how serial killers work.” Rey was going to have a headache if this continued any longer, so she lied through her teeth at the reality of a new player joining their D&D party. "He seems nice." She didn’t trust a single inch of skin on that man. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

- A Mad Man, with a Box for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In for midwinterspring

Kylo Ren, the mysterious senator who appeared from out of the deserts of Jakku and somehow brought them back to life, has spent a long and unproductive session on Hosnian Prime. Now, it's time to go home. After all, there's someone waiting for him and so much for them to do together.

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party for MissCoppelia

Rey goes back to visit her foster mother for a Purim celebration. She meets Ben Solo who's visiting his parents, who are friends with her foster mother. They have an attraction to each other right away, but try to play it cool.

- The Banished Heart for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

Jakku is a withering outpost of the kingdom, and its people hope the new wizard - the mysterious Kylo Ren - will bring them the rains the land needs to heal. Rey is a lonely, clanless girl living in Niima, and she has a secret. One she hopes the wizard will be able to help her with too.

- The Smuggler's Bride for MyJediLife

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- Annabel Lee for myownlittleinfinity

Rey keeps finding these ... notes in her locker. She doesn't quite get them. They seem like love notes, but she doesn't know who they could be from. Meanwhile she's paired up with Ben Solo (who hates her despite her gigantic crush on him) for this English assignment. Who knows how THIS will go.

- with my body i thee worship for niennathegrey

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- the losing game for no_big_deal

Sith Princess Rey Palpatine is given a peculiar gift for her Life Day: a Jedi. Not only that, one who is boorish, spirited, and stubborn. But, he presents an opportunity: one that could liberate her from a life under the thumb of her grandfather. She has seven weeks to change his heart before all her freedom is taken from her - forever.

- standing right in front of you for notkellymarie

When Senator Solo's engagement is pushed forward, he and his Jedi bodyguard, Rey, travel to Naboo alone for the announcement ball. The pair despise each other, constantly bickering and disagreeing with each other, which makes spending extensive amounts of time alone together all that more difficult. Until of course, one of them breaks...

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling for OccasionallyCreative

Ben Solo is a seasoned smuggler. And he’s not bad at it, either. But when bounty hunter Rey offers him a temporary partnership he can’t refuse, Ben will find himself pushed to the limits of his skill, patience, and resourcefulness on a job that’s dangerous enough to be his last.

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war for politicalpadmé

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. “Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” ~

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You for Prix

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. She was starting to show, and her friends would start asking questions. She would have to give them answers, some of them would not understand, and none of them would accept.

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

During her search for the infamous Luke Skywalker — the man who predicted a devastating earthquake in New Madrid, Missouri — Rey finds herself entangled in Luke’s family history and with his brooding nephew, Ben Solo.

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer for Reykenobi68

Rey had started to get used to Ben not living next door anymore by the time the holidays came around. Then he's back for the holidays. Rey is really expecting things to go wrong after the way he left at the end of the summer. ut is it really going to be that bad.

- The Long Way Home for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings.  It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight for shariling

I don't know why I followed you here. She wanted to reply. Maybe because you're so tall I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe it's because of your hair or the way you move, or maybe it's because of that kind of melancholic look in your eyes. There is something about you that I find terribly attractive and I don’t know what it is: maybe the moon or the alcohol or the wolf I have met before infected me with some strange parasite and now I am hopelessly attracted to dogs, I do not know. She could have said one of these things, any of them, instead she said: “I've never bitten anyone before, and I want you to be my first.”

- Fallen for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

It's impossible not to have a soulmark. It's not a big deal, not in the lax and gin-soaked speakeasies of 1920s Manhattan, but it's still a heavy weight to bear, as Ben Solo and Rey find out side by side.

- Lips Raw With Love for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes for Takekurabehime

Jedi Knight Ben Solo is sent to Naboo on an errand of mercy (and to visit his grandparents). He arrives in springtime; but will he be able to complete his mission without finding himself distracted and bewildered when love and intrigue waft through the fragrant air?

- Glitter & Gold for TearoomSaloon

Rey is lead singer in an up-and-coming glam metal band. They've finally got steady performances, but that means playing at the same club as the Knights of Ren, whose lead singer definitely isn't interested in any competition.

- To kiss like lovers do for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Ben and Rey spend their formative years growing up together in Medieval Scotland and it looks like they will end up together. Circumstances intervene and Rey loses her chance to be with him. Devastated, she carries on until the day clan Ren attacks Castle Jakku lead by the notorious killer Kylo Ren.

- Snow Turns To Rain for thehobbem

For a moment, he wanted to ask what she meant, but if he was being completely honest, he already knew.  He asked himself that same question over the years, and none more often than tonight, since seeing her again.  Was leaving worth it?  Was going their separate ways worth leaving each other?

 “I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head.  “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work.  I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

 “But?”

 “But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

“What do you mean no one goes in there?” A chuckle. “It’s haunted. People see all sorts of weird things in there and some don’t ever come out. You’re better off living with your curiosity.” Rey wakes in a shadowy forest with no memory of where she came from, only her name. With the help of the resident guardian she takes a journey to figure out her past, and maybe even discover her future.

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) for Thursdaygirl

As they continue to work together, two things become clear. One: Ben Solo is an enigma. He’s preppy yet humble, privileged yet introspective. He’s the opposite of lazy; she kicks herself every day for assuming otherwise. And two: Ben Solo will never love her.

- show me the stars. for tmwillson3

“I don’t hate Christmas, I just don’t love it the way you do.” Lifting his head, he pulls a face, loosening up a tangled ornament of a poodle with pink, curly fluff. Rey snatches it from him possessively, tossing it back to the cart. “No one loves it the way you do, to be fair.”

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) for writergenie

In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait, Rey struggles to find her place among the Resistance. However, her lingering Force bond with Kylo— Ben— whatever name he calls himself— complicates things, blurring the line between friend and foe.

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) for XarisEirene

The bond snaps back into place, even stronger than before. He is here. With Rey, yes, but with Luke - Luke, who is looking at them now with that same dangerous glint in his eye that haunts Ben’s dreams.

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.